


Tomato, Tomahto

by makeit_takeit



Category: Men's Hockey RPF, When Harry Met Sally (1989)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming of Age, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gay For You, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 12:42:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17849678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makeit_takeit/pseuds/makeit_takeit
Summary: “What I’m saying is – and this is not a line in any way, shape, or form – is that gay guys and straight guys can’t be friends, because the sex part always gets in the way.”Jamie sighs, and figures in for a penny, in for a pound.“That’s not true,” he counters. “I have other gay friends and trust me, there is no sex involved.”“No you don’t,” Tyler shakes his head knowingly. Jamie huffs.“Yes I do.”“No you don’t.”“Yes, I do.”“You onlythinkyou do.”“You’re saying I’m having sex with these guys without my knowledge?” Jamie throws his hands up in frustration, even though he’s driving and it’s really not a safe thing to do. Tyler’s just so infuriating.“No,” Tyler says, “what I’m saying is they all want to have sex with you.”





	Tomato, Tomahto

**Author's Note:**

> Did you guys hear _When Harry Met Sally_ is going to get a special 30th Anniversary limited cinematic release this year? Because I did, and I had some thoughts about it. Mainly, that I will for sure be going to that, but also that it should get a remix that examines the more modern question: can a straight man and a gay man really just be friends without the sex part getting in the way? Hint: the answer is possibly yes, but not in this fandom.
> 
> I want to acknowledge that there are for sure other pairings more naturally suited to fit into the famously idiosyncratic personalities of Harry and Sally than Jamie Benn and Tyler Seguin, but I’m 3 months and 50K words into another fic featuring these two, and I’ve got them on the brain so now this has happened.
> 
> (And if you did that math at home and wondered how a person can take 3 months to write 50k words for one story but then write 30K words in 48 hours for another story of the same pairing, the answer is I don’t know but it’s super annoying.)
> 
> I’ve made the plagiarize-y artistic choice to use the exact movie dialogue whenever and wherever I could shoehorn it into my modern bromosexual narrative, because this is a self-indulgent exercise if it is anything, and that’s what I wanted to do. Also, because it’s 30 years old and the bulk of it is still relevant AF. Much love to the one and only Nora Ephron, who owns all this.
> 
> If you don’t know the plot of When Harry Met Sally, you might want to google that before you read this or alternatively WATCH THE MOVIE ALREADY.
> 
> BONUS: featuring Tyson Barrie in Carrie Fisher’s scene-stealing role.
> 
> Other possibly relevant notes at the end. Enjoy!

 

**University of Alberta, 2010**

When Jamie pulls up to the curb in front of Alder House, he sees Armando out on the walkway, lip-locked with some guy. He rolls down the window, hears Armando whispering _I love you_ into the other guy’s mouth.

 

“I love _you_ ,” the other guy says, then they go right back to kissing like they missed the big, loud SUV that just rumbled up next to them.

 

Jamie clears his throat subtly.

 

When they just keep kissing, he tries again, not-so-subtly. Finally, Armando drags his face away and looks over.

 

“Oh, hi Jamie!” He pulls himself marginally farther from the man his arms are wrapped around, and gestures between the man and the truck.

 

“Jamie, this is Tyler Seguin. Tyler, this is Jamie Benn.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Tyler nods. He’s tall with a wide mouth and kind of messy hair. Jamie can see the tattoo on his forearm, peeking out from under his rolled-up sleeve.

 

He lets go of Armando long enough to pick up the duffel bag next to his feet and shoulder his backpack.

 

“You want to drive the first shift?”

 

“Nah, you’re already there, you can start.”

 

Jamie just nods.

 

“Back’s open.”

 

Tyler carries his bags around to the back bumper and opens the rear hatch, Armando trailing after him. Jamie can hear Armando’s lilting accent through the open window as Tyler’s loading his stuff into the back.

 

“Call me.”

 

“I’ll call you as soon as I get there.”

 

“Text me from the road.”

 

“I’ll text you right now.”

 

Jamie rolls his eyes, but Armando seems happy with that idea. Jamie watches in the driver’s side mirror as he wraps his arms around Tyler again.

 

“I love you,” he croons, and turns his face up for another kiss.

 

“I love _you_ ,” Tyler insists between kisses. The kissing continues for a while, before Jamie blows out an impatient breath and hits the horn. They’ve got a long drive, and he’s on a schedule here.

 

He watches in the mirror as they jump apart at the noise.

 

“Sorry,” he calls out the window, and adds a grin to try and seem like less of a pushy ass.

 

Tyler shrugs like he’s apologizing, but he lets go of Armando and starts backing around toward the passenger door.

 

“I miss you already, babe,” Tyler calls as he climbs in, “miss you already.”

 

“I miss _you_ ,” Armando says, and waves as Tyler closes the door.

 

+++

 

Jamie waits until they’re on Highway 16, headed East out of town before he lays out his plan.

 

 **“** I have it all figured out. It's a thirty hour trip which breaks down into ten shifts of three hours each. Or alternatively, we could break it down by mileage - .”

 

Tyler has unbuckled his seat belt and turned 180 degrees in his seat, leaning back into the back to rummage around. His ass is in the air, his hip bumping Jamie’s shoulder in the driver seat while his head is shoved well into the back.

 

“There’s, uh,” Jamie shoulders into Tyler’s hip a little, just re-establishing his personal space. “There’s a map on the visor that I marked to show the locations we can change shifts.”

 

Tyler spins back around and plops down into his seat, a plastic bag in his hand.

 

“Grapes?” He holds them out, like Jamie hadn’t said anything at all. Jamie gives him a long, blank look, then finally shakes his head.

 

“I don’t like to eat between meals.”

 

Tyler shrugs, all _suit yourself_ , then turns and spits a pit at the window. It hits the glass, and slides down slowly.

 

“I’ll roll the window down,” he says amiably, like this is all perfectly normal. He rolls down the window, then says, “So why don’t you tell me the story of your life.”

 

He spits another seed out the window.

 

“The story of _my life_?”

 

“We’ve got thirty hours to kill before we hit Dallas,” Tyler shrugs, and stuffs more grapes into his mouth.

 

“The story of my life isn't even going to get us out of Alberta,” Jamie says, incredulous. “I mean, nothing's happened to me yet. That's why I'm going to Dallas.”

 

“So something can happen to you?”

 

“Yes,” Jamie nods, definitive.

 

“Like what?” Tyler’s still eating grapes.

 

“Like, I’m going to journalism school to become a reporter.”

 

“So you can write about things that happen to other people,” Tyler says, skeptical. Jamie sighs.

 

“That’s one way to look at it.”

 

Tyler spits another seed out the window.

 

“Suppose nothing happens to you,” he says. Jamie’s eyebrows crinkle.

 

“Suppose you live through your whole live and nothing happens to you, you never meet anybody, you never become anything and finally you die one of those sad, single-in-the-city deaths where nobody notices for two weeks until the smell drifts into the hallway.”

 

Jamie tries to keep the horrified look off his face. Armando warned him that Tyler can be – a lot. He said he likes to poke, likes to try to get under people’s skin, to get a rise out of them. Jamie doesn’t want to make this guy think he’s an easy mark, or he has a feeling it will go on for the next thirty hours. He schools his face into something he hopes conveys a sense of unruffled superiority.

 

“Armando mentioned you had a – dark side.”

 

“That’s what drew him to me,” Tyler says, like he’s so fucking mysterious or whatever.

 

“Your dark side.” Jamie doesn’t even try to contain his skepticism.

 

“Sure,” Tyler shrugs. “Why, don’t you have a dark side?”

 

Jamie concentrates silently on the road, but he can feel Tyler’s appraising gaze on the side of his face.

 

“No,” he says before Jamie can answer, like he’s sized Jamie up just by looking. “You’re probably one of those happy people who dots their i’s with little hearts.”

 

Jamie snorts.

 

“I have just as much of a dark side as the next person,” he says coolly, changing lanes to get out from behind a slow-moving tanker.

 

“Oh, really?” Tyler’s voice is disbelieving. “When I buy a new book I always read the last page first. That way in case I die before I finish I know how it ends. That, my friend, is a dark side.”

 

Jamie snorts again. This guy, seriously.

 

“That doesn’t mean you’re deep or anything. I mean, yes, basically I’m a happy person. I don’t see that there’s anything wrong with that.”

 

“Of course you don’t,” Tyler says sagely. “You’re too busy being happy.”

 

+++

 

They make it into Saskatchewan in relative silence, Tyler mostly just texting until they stop to switch off in Lashburn. Jamie puts in his earbuds and turns up the music, pulls his hat down over his eyes and sinks back into the passenger seat with instructions not to wake him until Saskatoon. Tyler wakes him in the city saying he’s got to take a piss, but Jamie insists they stick to the plan. His scheduled stop in Hanley is only half an hour further south.

 

After their pit stop Jamie takes back over the driving, immediately mourning the fact that his dedication to vehicular safety won’t allow him to drive with his earbuds in. Without them, Tyler immediately feels free to start talking at him about the podcast he was listening to while Jamie was asleep, a debate about the best movies of all time. Jamie doesn’t even care that much except that he knows Tyler is championing Casablanca just to seem all deep and whatever, like he’s some classic movie buff. Somehow it devolves into an argument.

 

“You’re wrong,” Jamie shakes his head at the road.

 

“I’m _not_ wrong, he _wants_ \- .”

 

“You’re wrong.” Jamie insists.

 

“He _wants_ her to leave, that’s why he puts her on the plane,” Tyler talks right over him.

 

“I don’t think she wants to stay,” is Jamie’s rejoinder.

 

“Of _course_ she wants to stay,” Tyler snorts. “Wouldn’t you rather be with Humphrey Bogart than the other guy?”

 

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in _Casablanca_ , married to a man who runs a bar. It might sound stuck up, but I don’t.”

 

Jamie knows he’s doing it - he’s letting Tyler rile him up. He tries to bite his tongue, but.

 

“You’d rather be in a passionless marriage?”

 

“And be the First Lady of Czechoslovakia!” Jamie cuts in, unable to help himself.

 

“Than live with the man you’ve had the greatest sex of your life with, just because he owns a bar and that’s all he does?” Tyler goes right on again, like Jamie didn’t just make an excellent point about the First Lady thing.

 

“Yes!” He spots a diner sign and puts on his blinker to exit the highway. “And so would anyone in their right mind. You have to be practical about things, even Ingrid Bergman, which is why she gets on the plane at the end of the movie.”

 

Jamie had hoped to make it to their next switch-off spot in Weyburn before they stopped to eat, but they got a late start and now he’s hungry, so he pulls off in Regina. It’s only the third leg and they’re already behind.

 

“I understand,” Tyler says cryptically as Jamie pulls the truck into a parking space in front of the diner.

 

“What?” Jamie says, annoyed. He shoves the truck into Park, maybe a little huffily.

 

Tyler just shrugs and shakes his head, which is such a classic passive aggressive fish for attention that Jamie should really let it go, but.

 

Tyler climbs out of the car, and Jamie climbs out too and slams the driver side door.

 

“ _What_ ,” he insists.

 

“Forget about it,” Tyler says, all fake-nonchalant, standing back and holding the door of the restaurant open.

 

“Forget about _what_?” Jamie’s voice shows his exasperation more than he’d like.

 

“It’s not important,” Tyler says, and walks past him into the restaurant, leaving Jamie trailing after him.

 

“Just tell me,” he growls.

 

Just as the hostess walks up, Tyler shrugs again.

 

“Obviously you haven’t had great sex yet.” To the hostess he says, “two, please,” holding up his fingers with a charming smile.

 

The waitress looks at them, wide-eyed, then turns to pick up two menus. Jamie follows her, and Tyler, to a table. He knows his face is red, and he wishes it wasn’t.

 

“Yes I have,” he hisses, once the waitress leaves them alone.

 

“No you haven’t,” Tyler says from behind his menu.

 

“It just so happens I’ve had _plenty_ of good sex!”

 

It’s maybe a little louder, his voice maybe a little higher pitched than he would have preferred. The family at the table next to them turn to look, and Jamie feels his face burn hotter.

 

Tyler lowers the menu, looking amused.

 

“With whom?”

 

“What?”

 

“With whom did you have this great sex?”

 

Jamie snorts, shakes his head.

 

“I’m not gonna tell you that.”

 

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Tyler says casually, and raises his menu again.

 

“Ellie Gordon,” Jamie snaps, and wishes he could just slap a hand over his own mouth. He’s not sure why he keeps falling for Tyler’s shit like this.

 

“Ellie?” Tyler laughs. “ _Eleanor_? No, no – you didn’t have great sex with _Eleanor_.”

 

“I did too,” Jamie says, more annoyed with himself at this point for playing along than he is with Tyler, really.

 

“No you didn’t,” Tyler says, totally dismissive once again. It’s infuriating.

 

“An Eleanor can knit you a sweater. If you need some homemade jam, Eleanor’s your girl. But turning you out in the bedroom is not Eleanor’s strong suit. It’s the name. _Ooh yeah, right there_ Eleanor, _you’re a dirty little slut_ Eleanor, _I wanna fill you with my come_ Eleanor.” He shakes his head, snickering. “Just doesn’t work.”

 

Before Jamie can defend himself – or Ellie, for that matter – the waitress arrives.

 

“Hi, what can I get ya?” She smiles, all nice Canadian girl.

 

“I’ll have a number three,” Tyler taps his menu on the table and hands it off to her.

 

“I’ll take the chef salad please,” Jamie says, “with the oil and vinegar on the side. And apple pie with ice cream.”

 

“Chef, and apple with ice cream,” the waitress recites as she jots it down on her pad.

 

“Yes,” Jamie confirms, “and I’d like the pie heated, and I don’t want the ice cream on top. I want it on the side, and I’d like strawberry instead of vanilla if you have it. If not then no ice cream, just whipped cream, but only if it’s real. If it’s out of a can, then nothing.”

 

Tyler and the waitress both look at him with raised eyebrows.

 

“Not even the pie?” the waitress asks unsurely.

 

“No, just the pie, but then not heated,” Jamie explains.

 

“Uh huh,” the waitress mumbles, and walks way with a worried look back over her shoulder.

 

Tyler just keeps raising his eyebrows of judgement.

 

“What,” Jamie says, a little defensive maybe.

 

“Nothing, nothing,” Tyler says, but his voice is all amused-sounding. “So how come you broke up with Ellie?”

 

“How do you know we broke up?”

 

“Because if you didn’t break up you wouldn’t be here with me, you’d be off with Eleanor the sex goddess.”

 

“First of all,” Jamie sighs, because they didn’t break up _that_ long ago and they weren’t that serious or anything, but it’s still a little raw, “I’m not _with_ you,” he finishes pointedly. “And second of all it’s none of your business why we broke up.”

 

Tyler levels him with a long look, then holds up his hands.

 

“You’re right, you’re totally right. Forget I asked.”

 

“If you must know,” Jamie goes on, as if Tyler is twisting his arm, which is somehow what it feels like even though Jamie is well aware he’s being played here, somehow, “it was because she was crazy jealous and I had these days-of-the-week boxers.”

 

Tyler makes a loud noise, like the buzzer on a game show, and holds up a finger.

 

“I’m sorry, I need a judge’s ruling on this. Days of the week boxers?”

 

“Yeah,” Jamie shrugs, and tries not to blush. “They had the days of the week on them and I thought they were sort of funny. And then one day Ellie says to me, _you never wear Sunday_. And she’s all suspicious, like, _where’s Sunday_ , _where did you leave Sunday_? And I told her, and she didn’t believe me.”

 

Tyler’s eyebrows climb up his forehead, and he nods encouragingly.

 

“Well?”

 

“They don’t make Sunday.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because of God.”

 

Tyler starts laughing, and then Jamie starts laughing, and they manage to make it through dinner with a little less combative tone, which Jamie is glad for.

 

He still has an hour left on his shift before they trade drivers, so he’s putting on his seat belt, cranking the truck up again when he feels Tyler’s eyes on him.

 

“What?” he asks, but Tyler’s still looking, so he scrubs a hand over his mouth and chin. “Do I have something on my face?”

 

Tyler just narrows his eyes.

 

“You’re a pretty good-looking guy, ya know?” He says it speculatively, like it’s a decision he’s just made.

 

“Thank you,” Jamie says primly, and hopes it doesn’t sound stuck up. He’s hung out with plenty of gay guys and it’s never made him uncomfortable before, but there’s something about Tyler. Probably it’s just what Armando warned him about – Tyler just trying to get under his skin.

 

“Armando never said how hot you were,” Tyler goes on, and he’s still looking, and Jamie’s glad that the sun finished setting while they were inside the restaurant, so Tyler can’t tell he’s blushing.

 

“Well, maybe he doesn’t think I’m hot.” Jamie tries to brush it off, backing out of the parking space and turning the truck back toward the highway.

 

“I don’t think it’s a matter of opinion, empirically you are attractive.”

 

Jamie’s chest feels tight, and he clenches his jaw.

 

“Armando is my friend.”

 

“So?”

 

“So you’re dating him.”

 

“So?”

 

“So you’re, like, hitting on me or whatever.”

 

“No I wasn’t,” Tyler scoffs, “What?”

 

Jamie huffs, silently incredulous, and doesn’t respond.

 

“Can’t a man say another man is hot without it being a line?” Tyler asks into the silence.

 

Jamie still doesn’t respond.

 

“Alright, alright,” Tyler holds up his hands. “Let’s just say for the sake of argument it was a line. What do you want me to do about it? I take it back, okay? I take it back.”

 

“You can’t take it back,” Jamie rolls his eyes. “It’s already out there.”

 

“Oh, geez,” Tyler opens his eyes wide, like he’s terrified. “What are we supposed to do, call the cops? It’s already out there!” His voice is mocking, and Jamie is recalling fondly the relative ease of the atmosphere over dinner.

 

“Just let it go, okay?” He says with a sigh.

 

“Great,” Tyler agrees, suspiciously easily, “let it go, that’s my policy. That’s what I always say, just let it go.”

 

He blows out a breath, drums his fingers on the dashboard, then,

 

“Wanna spend the night at a motel?” He flashes a cheeky grin, like he’s just waiting for Jamie’s stern look of reproach. When he gets it, he laughs.

 

“See what I did? I didn’t let it go.”

“Tyler.”

 

“I said I would, and then I didn’t.”

 

“Tyler.”

 

“I went the other way.”

 

“ _Tyler_ ,” Jamie finally growls, and Tyler stops his incessant chattering. His shoulders are up around his ears, a picture of innocence.

 

“What?”

 

“We’re just gonna be friends. Okay?”

 

“Great,” Tyler says again, and Jamie knows enough this time to be wary of such easy agreement. “Friends. It’s the best thing, really.”

 

He’s silent long enough that Jamie thinks maybe they’ll make it all the way to Weyburn that way, but then he suddenly pipes up again.

 

“You realize of course that we can never be friends.”

 

“Why not?” Jamie asks automatically, and wishes immediately he’d learn to bite his own tongue.

 

“What I’m saying is – and this is not a line in any way, shape, or form – is that gay guys and straight guys can’t be friends, because the sex part always gets in the way.”

 

Jamie sighs, and figures in for a penny, in for a pound.

 

“That’s not true,” he counters. “I have other gay friends and trust me, there is no sex involved.”

 

“No you don’t,” Tyler shakes his head knowingly. Jamie huffs.

 

“Yes I do.”

 

“No you don’t.”

 

“Yes, I _do_.”

 

“You only _think_ you do.”

 

“You’re saying I’m having sex with these guys without my knowledge?” Jamie throws his hands up in frustration, even though he’s driving and it’s really not a safe thing to do. Tyler’s just so infuriating.

 

“No,” Tyler says, “what I’m saying is they all want to have sex with you.”

 

“They do not,” Jamie scoffs, but Tyler insists.

 

“Do too.”

 

“They _do not_.”

 

“Trust me, they do.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“Because no gay guy can be friends with another guy he’s attracted to – it doesn’t matter if the guy is gay or straight – you still want to have sex with him.”

 

“So you’re saying that a gay guy can be friends with a straight guy he’s _not_ attracted to,” Jamie proposes, and Tyler considers that for a minute.

 

“Nah, you pretty much wanna bone them too.”

 

“What about the part where they don’t want to bone you back?”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Tyler pronounces, “because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that is the end of the story.”

 

“Well I guess we’re not going to be friends then,” Jamie shrugs. He’s done arguing about this.

 

“Guess not,” Tyler agrees cheerfully.

 

“That’s too bad,” Jamie says, even though he’s not sure he means it. “You were the only person I knew in Dallas.”

 

+++

 

Tyler’s best friend Jess is a flight attendant for American Airlines, based in Dallas. Apparently, she’s gone all the time and is happy to let him crash at her apartment. As best Jamie could understand the story, Tyler’s sole reason for moving to Dallas after graduation is that he wanted somewhere warm, and he had a free place to stay.

 

Tyler drives the last leg, from Oklahoma City to Dallas. They pull up in front of his friend’s apartment building at dusk; Tyler puts the car in park and slowly climbs out, groaning as he stretches. Jamie climbs out too, feels compelled to walk around to the back and appear helpful, even if Tyler is perfectly capable of handling his two bags on his own.

 

Jamie stands there awkwardly, holding Tyler’s duffle while Tyler shoulders his backpack.

 

Both of them are starting to smell.

 

“Thanks for the ride.” Tyler sounds tired.

 

“Yeah.” Jamie feels the same way. “It was interesting.”

 

“It was nice knowing you.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Tyler holds out his hand, and Jamie shakes it.

 

Tyler picks his duffel up off the ground.

 

“Well. Have a nice life,” Jamie shrugs, and Tyler nods.

 

“You too.”

 

 

**DFW Airport, 2014**

 

Jamie has his hands on his girlfriend’s hips, her arms are around his neck, and she’s up on her toes to kiss him goodbye when he hears a voice saying her name.

 

“Jolie? Jolie! I thought it was you!”

 

There’s a guy, scruffy hair and a short beard, wearing a plaid shirt and skinny pants, messenger bag across his chest and a roller bag by his knee. He looks vaguely familiar.

 

“Tyler,” he says, patting his chest, “from AMLI Quadrangle.”

 

Jolie’s eyes light up with recognition.

 

“Tyler, hey! How’re you doing?”

 

“Good, how about you?”

 

Tyler’s eyes cut briefly up to Jamie’s face, and suddenly Jamie feels himself blush. He remembers suddenly, how he knows this guy.

 

“Fine, I’m doing fine,” Jolie’s saying, and Jamie’s turning his face away, hoping Tyler won’t look at him again, won’t place him.

 

“That’s great, I was just walking by, and I thought it was you and here, it is, it’s you!”

 

“It’s me!” she says, and they both laugh.

 

“Are you still working for the DA’s office?” he asks, and Jolie shakes her head. Jamie would really like to go ahead inside, he’s really not needed for this.

 

“No, I switched to the other side,” she says, “what about you?”

 

“I’m working for a small firm now, we do political consulting.”

 

“Oh,” Jolie says, and her hand lands on Jamie’s arm. “Tyler this is my boyfriend Jamie.” She looks up at Jamie with a smile and nods at Tyler.

 

“Tyler and I used to live in the same building, when I lived Uptown.”

 

Jamie nods silently, and Tyler narrows his eyes like he also thinks Jamie seems familiar. Jamie really needs to go.

 

“Well listen, I’ve got a plane to catch,” Tyler says, before Jamie can get the words out. “It was really good to see you Jolie.”

 

“You too,” Jolie smiles, squeezes his arm. “Don’t be a stranger!”

 

Tyler waves as he pushes through the doors into the airport. Jamie lets out a sigh of relief.

 

“Thank God he couldn’t place me,” he says, “I drove from Edmonton to Dallas with him after College and it was the road trip from hell.”

 

“What happened?” Jolie snuggles in under his arm and smiles up at him.

 

“He hit on me,” Jamie says, even though he’s not totally sure if that’s true.

 

“He was dating this friend of mine -. Oh, God, I can’t even remember the guy’s name.”

 

He stares into the middle distance, picturing the guy’s face, but the name won’t come. Jolie laughs.

 

“Just break up with me now,” Jamie sighs dramatically, “I’m twenty-six years old and I can’t even remember the name of the guy I was such good friends with that I got into a fight with his boyfriend for hitting on me.”

 

“So what happened?” she grins up at him. Jamie still can’t remember that guy’s name, and it’s super annoying.

 

“When?” he asks dumbly.

 

“When he hit on you, and you got into the fight on the road trip?”

 

“Oh! Oh, right. I said we could be friends, and this part I can remember – he said that gay guys and straight guys could never really be friends.” Jamie looks down at Jolie, eyebrows furrowed. “Do you think that’s true?”

 

“No,” she shakes her head like the idea is ridiculous. Jamie is pretty sure she’s right.

 

“Do you have any lesbian friends?”

 

“No,” she laughs,” but I can get some if it’s important to you.”

 

“Armando!” It hits him suddenly. “Armando Ruiz. Thank God.”

 

Jolie just shakes her head, and then squeezes him around the middle. “I’ll miss you,” she says into his chest. “I love you.”

 

Jamie feels his heart thud.

 

“You do?” They haven’t said it before.

 

“I do,” she grins up at him, hopeful. He grins back.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

+++

 

“What would you like to drink?” the flight attendant raises her eyes at him.

 

“Do you have any Bloody Mary mix?”

 

“Yep,” the woman says, and bends to reach into her cart.

 

“Oh, uh,” Jamie raises his hand to get her attention. “Wait, here’s what I want. Regular tomato juice, filled up about three quarters of the way, then just a splash of Bloody Mary mix, and a wedge of lime, but on the side.”

 

Jamie is expecting the irritated look from the flight attendant, but he’s not expecting to hear, as he takes his first sip,

 

“The University of Alberta, right?”

 

Jamie looks up to see Tyler’s face leaned over the back of his seat. He tries not to sigh outwardly.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Did you look this good at the University of Alberta?”

 

Jesus Christ.

 

“No.”

 

“Did we ever, uh. You know?” He wiggles his eyebrows and makes some kind of embarrassing hand motion.

 

“God! No!”

 

Jamie turns to the guy next to him, who’s watching them like they’re the in-flight entertainment.

 

“We drove from Canada to Texas together after college graduation,” he explains to his seat-mate, but before he goes on, the guy is unbuckling his seatbelt.

 

“Would you two like to sit together?” the guy asks, already gathering his things.

 

“No,” Jamie says, at the same time Tyler says, “Great! Thank you!”

 

Jamie sips his tomato juice for strength, while Tyler causes a big commotion about switching seats. When he finally gets himself settled in and buckles his seatbelt, he picks up like they’re in the middle of a conversation.

 

“You were good friends with. Uh.”

 

“Armando,” Jamie supplies magnanimously. “I can’t believe you don’t remember his name.”

 

“What do you mean?” Tyler looks offended, “I remember, Armando, right? Armando Rodriguez.”

 

“Ruiz.”

 

“Right, that’s what I said. What ever happened to him?”

 

“I have no idea.” Jamie tries looking out the window, but Tyler doesn’t appear to notice.

 

“You have no idea? You were really good friends with him! You got all offended on his behalf because I wanted to sleep with you. And was it worth it, the sacrifice for a friend you didn’t even keep in touch with?”

 

Jamie sighs.

 

“Tyler, you might not believe this, but I never considered not sleeping with you a sacrifice.”

 

“Fair enough,” Tyler grins, like he appreciates the insult, “fair enough.”

 

“So you were going to be a gymnast.”

 

Seriously, this guy.

 

Jamie is beginning to remember with startling clarity why his memories of that road trip are basically Tyler talking and Jamie feeling irritated and uncomfortable. All this talk of Armando makes him remember, too, how Armando warned him about Tyler’s tendency to try to get under people’s skin.

 

“A journalist,” Jamie corrects as blithely as possible, so as not to encourage him.

 

“Right,” Tyler grins, unperturbed, “that’s what I said. And?”

 

“I am a journalist, I work for the Dallas Morning News.”

 

“Cool! And you’re with Jolie, that’s great. You’ve been together, what, a month?”

 

“Six weeks,” Jamie corrects. “How did you know that?”

 

“You take someone to the airport, it’s clearly the beginning of a relationship.” He shrugs, like it’s simple math that everyone’s aware of. “That’s why I have never taken anyone to the airport at the beginning of a relationship.”

 

“Why?” Jamie knows he really shouldn’t ask, but.

 

“Because eventually things move on and you don’t take someone to the Airport anymore, and I never wanted anyone to say to me, _how come you never take me to the airport anymore?_ ”

 

Jamie can’t help but smile a little as he shakes his head. It’s so dumb, but also, it’s a little funny.

 

 **“** It's amazing, you look like a normal person but actually you're some sort of warped psychopath.”

 

Tyler doesn’t even respond, just asks,

 

“So are you going to marry her?”

 

Jamie’s smile disappears fast, replaced by an open-mouthed scowl.

 

“We’ve barely known each other for a month! And besides, neither one of us is looking to get married right now.”

 

“Huh,” Tyler makes a considering face. “I’m getting married.”

 

“You _are_?”

 

“Yep,” Tyler grins.

 

“ _You_ are,” Jamie confirms, pointing at Tyler.

 

“Uh huh,” Tyler wiggles his eyebrows.

 

“Who _is_ he?” Jamie doesn’t bother to cover up his shock. He can’t begin to imagine what kind of person wants to _marry Tyler_ , or what kind of person Tyler would want to marry.

 

“Helmut Heinz, he’s a lawyer, he’s German.”

 

Jamie laughs, he can’t help it.

 

“You’re getting married. To a German lawyer.”

 

“Yeah,” Tyler shrugs, completely unbothered. “What’s so funny about that?”

 

Jamie can’t really find the words to articulate it, so he doesn’t bother trying. He just keeps laughing, and Tyler laughs too.

 

“You’d be amazed what falling madly in love can do for you,” Tyler grins. “Any anyway, you just get to a certain point where you get tired of the whole thing.”

 

“What whole thing?”

 

“The whole life of a single-gay-guy thing. You know – you meet someone at some club, and you grind on each other just enough to get a little sweaty and pretend you didn’t just meet like 5 seconds ago, then you go in the back room and jerk each other off and exchange numbers like you’re going to call, but you never do. Or if you do, it’s just a booty call, because you’re bored and horny at 11 pm on a weeknight and too lazy to go out or to deal with the whole Grindr thing. So they come over and you have a beer or something to pretend it’s not just about sex, but you both know it is, and then you finally bone and the minute you get off you know what goes through your mind? How long do I have to lie here and cuddle before I can ask him to leave? Is thirty seconds enough?”

 

Jamie forces himself to close his mouth.

 

“ _That’s_ the single gay guy’s life? Is that true?”

 

“Pretty much,” Tyler shrugs. “Luckily the other guy knows the score, I mean he’s a single gay guy too right? But you, I mean dealing with women, wow. That must really be rough. When you’re with a woman, how long do you have to cuddle afterwards?”

 

He doesn’t pause for Jamie’s input, he just answers his own question.

 

“All night, right? See, there's your problem. Somewhere between thirty seconds and all night is your problem.”

 

Jamie feels like he’s got whiplash.

 

“I don’t have a problem,” he points out, somewhat feebly.

 

Tyler just claps him on the shoulder.

 

“Yeah you do.”

+++

 

Tyler’s seat is on the aisle, so he gets out first. He causes another commotion because his luggage is a few rows back, and he holds up the whole process while he somehow convinces a succession of passengers to crowd-surf his roller bag up to him. Once he heads up the aisle, Jamie lets a bunch of passengers from farther back go ahead of him – partially because he feels bad about Tyler’s antics, but partially to put some distance between the two of them.

 

He hopes by the time he finally collects his luggage from the overhead, Tyler will have moved on to baggage claim or the taxi line or the rental car shuttle or whatever, but even after Jamie stops to use the toilet and takes his time washing his hands, as he’s standing on the moving walkway toward the exit doors, Tyler rolls up beside him and stops.

 

“Staying over?” He asks brightly.

 

“Yep.”

 

Jamie continues to stare straight ahead.

 

“Wanna grab dinner?”

 

Jamie looks over and raises an eyebrow.

 

“Just friends!” Tyler blinks innocently, hands up.

 

Jamie gives him a disbelieving look, then faces forward again.

 

“I thought you didn’t believe gay guys and straight guys could be friends.”

 

“When did I say that?”

  
“On the drive to Dallas.”

 

“No, no,” he says, like he’s absolutely sure, “I never said that.”

 

Jamie just keeps facing forward.

 

“Okay, fine,” Tyler says, like Jamie was twisting his arm, “Yes, that’s right, they can’t be friends. Unless both of them are involved with other people, then they can. This is an amendment to the earlier rule: if the two people are in other relationships, the pressure of possible sexual involvement is lifted.”

 

He’s quiet for a minute. Jamie closes his eyes, and waits for it.

 

“Okay, that doesn’t work either, because what happens then is the person you’re dating can’t understand why you need to be friends with the person you’re just friends with. Like it means something is missing from the relationship, and why do you have to go outside the relationship to get it? Then when you say _no, no, it’s not true, nothing’s missing from the relationship_ , the person you’re dating just accuses you of being secretly attracted to the person you’re just friends with, which you probably are -.”

 

“You mean _you_ probably are,” Jamie breaks in pointedly, but Tyler just rambles on, as usual.

 

“ - I mean, come on, who the hell are we kidding, let’s face it. Which brings us back the earlier rule before the amendment which is gay men and straight men can’t be friends. So where does that leave us?”

 

Jamie lets out a slow breath.

 

“Tyler.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Goodbye.”

 

“Oh,” Tyler actually looks surprised, but then he just nods good naturedly. “Okay.”

 

They’re still on the motorized walkway, standing side by side. It’s awkward, so Jamie starts walking.

 

Tyler also starts walking at the same time. Obviously, because he could not be a more oblivious or annoying human being.

 

Jamie grits his teeth.

 

“I’ll just stop walking, and let you go ahead,” Tyler grins, even as he’s still walking along shoulder to shoulder. Jamie nods, and keeps looking straight ahead. Tyler finally stands still, and slides slowly away.

 

 

 

**Dallas, Texas 2017**

Most days, Jamie works out on his lunch break. But he saves his day off and his cheat meals for Thursday Food Trucks in the park. He sometimes likes to get himself a big burrito or some greasy tacos, but his favorite is a loaded grilled cheese from Ruthies.

 

If the weather is nice enough – and one of the best things, hands down, about Dallas is that there are plenty of nice enough days, even in January - there are always different groups of co-workers walking over to Klyde Warren on any given day, but usually Jamie goes with Tyson and Alex.

 

The bulk of the conversation typically revolves around Tyson’s relationship drama.

 

“I went through the pockets of his suit jacket,” he announces gravely.

 

“Dude, why do you go through his pockets?” Alex shakes his head, incredulous.

 

Tyson ignores the question.

 

“Do you know what I found? They just bought a dining room table.” He pauses for effect. When there’s no reaction, he just repeats it, but louder.

 

“He and his _wife_ just went out and spent sixteen hundred dollars on a dining room table!” He throws up his hands.

 

“Where?” Alex asks.

 

“Not the point!” Tyson insists. “The point is he’s never going to leave her.”

 

“So what else is new?” Alex shrugs. “You’ve known this for two years.”

 

Tyson sighs, and hangs his head.

 

“You’re right, you’re right. I know you’re right.”

 

“Why can’t you find someone single? When I was single I knew lots of cool single people – guys and girls, whichever you want! There must be _someone_ , besides this married douchebag.” He stops and considers Jamie, who is busy stuffing his face and staying out of it.

 

“Jamie found someone.”

 

Tyson just rolls his eyes.

 

“Jamie got the last woman on earth who’s both hot and also not completely insane. That’s why men are easier. Even married ones.”

 

There’s a pause in the flow of conversation, so Jamie figures now’s as good a time as any.

 

“Jolie and I broke up.”

 

“What?” Alex yelps, at the same time as Tyson says “When?”. They both look startled.

 

“Monday.”

 

“You waited three days to tell us?” Alex looks affronted.

 

“You mean Jolie’s single?” Tyson says, and Alex smacks him in the back of the head.

 

“Jesus Christ, dude, wait ‘til the body’s cold.”

 

“I’m not that upset,” Jamie shrugs. “We’ve been sort of drifting apart for a while.”

 

“But you guys were a couple,” Tyson says, wistful. “You had someone to go places with, you had a date on National Holidays. You had regular sex!”

 

“I just had to face facts,” Jamie shakes his head, resolved. “We didn’t want the same things. She wanted -.”

 

“To get married,” Tyson nods sagely. “Tie you down.”

 

“No,” Jamie says calmly, shooting Tyson a warning look. “That’s just it, she didn’t want anything to change. She was happy the way things were and I just felt like we weren’t. _Moving_. We weren’t _going anywhere_ , anymore. And I was tired of standing still.”

 

“God,” Alex blinks. “That sounds really, uh. Healthy of you, I guess? If my wife left me I don’t even know what I’d _do_. Curl up in a ball and wait to die, I guess.”

 

Jamie tries to hold onto his resolve.

 

“Well, I’ve had a few days to get used to it, and, I feel -. Okay.”

 

There’s a beat of silence, then Tyson says,

 

“Good!” He pulls his phone out. “Sounds like you’re ready. Let’s see who we’ve got here.”

 

He starts scrolling. Jamie ignores him in favor of his grilled cheese, and Alex just sighs, _seriously, man_?

 

“Well! How else do you think you do it?” He turns to Jamie.

 

“I’ve got the perfect girl. Blonde, cute. I don’t happen to be into her but you might be. You don’t have a thing about ears.”

 

“Tyson,” Jamie says, “it’s been three days.”

 

“But you _just said_ you were fine,” Tyson blinks at him.

 

“I am fine. But I’m still – whatever.” He bites his lip, and his curiosity gets the better of him. “Who is she?”

 

Tyson snorts.

 

“Allie Anderson.”

 

“Ugh,” Jamie grunts. “You introduced me to her like five years ago.”

 

Alex giggles.

 

“Sorry!” Tyson raises his eyebrows, and he doesn’t seem sorry at all, actually. “Alright, wait, here, here we go. Katie Davis -.”

 

“She’s been married for like, a while, man,” Jamie can’t help grinning.

 

“Oh, for real?” Tyson says sadly, and makes a note in her contact info. “ _Married_.”

 

“Look,” Jamie tells him, “there’s no point in me going out with someone who I might really like _if_ I met her at the right time but who right now has no chance of being anything to me but a rebound.”

 

“Okay,” Tyson says, “fine. But don’t wait too long. Remember what happened to David Warsaw? His fiancée left him and everyone said _give him some time, don’t push him too fast_. Six months later, he was dead.”

 

“What are you saying, Tyson? I should get married to someone right away in case I’m about to die?”

 

“At least you could say you were married,” Alex points out. Jamie gives him heavy dose of side-eye.

 

“All I’m saying,” Tyson says reasonably, “is the right girl for you might be out there right now, and if you don’t grab her someone else will. And you’ll have to spend the rest of your life knowing that someone else is married to your wife.”

 

Jamie isn’t sure how he’s expected to respond to that, so he doesn’t.

 

+++

 

The Stars are down 3-1 after two, and some idiots inside the AAC have decided to start the wave during the second intermission. Tyler and Jessica are doing their part, reluctantly.

 

They stand, then sit, then continue their conversation.

 

“When did this happen,” Jess asks, her eyebrows crinkled.

 

“Friday.” Tyler knows his voice sounds sad. It’s because he is sad. “Helmut comes home from work and he says, _I don’t know if I want to be married anymore_. Like it's the institution, you know, like it's nothing personal, just something he's been thinking about. Like, in a casual way. I'm calm, I say why don't we take some time to think about it, you know, don't rush into anything."

 

“Yeah, right.” Jess nods. The wave comes back around, and they stand, then sit.

 

“Next day, he says he's thought about it, and he wants to try separating. He just wants to _try it_ , he says, but we can still date.” Tyler stops and sighs, huffs an incredulous laugh.

 

“Like this is supposed to cushion the blow? I mean I got married so I can _stop dating_. So I don't see where _we can still date_ is any big incentive, since the last thing you want to do is date your husband, who's supposed to love you! Which is what I'm saying to him, and that's when it occurs to me that maybe - he doesn't. So I say to him, _don't you love me anymore?_ "

 

Tyler steels himself for a minute before he continues.

 

“You know what he says?” He asks, and Jess shakes her head, eyes opened wide.

 

“He says _I don’t know if I’ve ever loved you_.”

 

Jess gasps, audibly.

 

“Holy _shit_ that’s harsh!”

 

The wave comes back again, because apparently it will never end. They stand, then sit. Tyler would like to punch something.

 

“You don’t come back from that right away,” Jess says, and Tyler would actually maybe like to punch her.

 

“Thanks, asshole,” he says, but she goes on, undeterred.

 

“No, I’m a writer, I know dialogue, and that’s _particularly_ harsh.”

 

Tyler sighs inwardly. He hasn’t even told her the worst part, yet.

 

 **“** Then he tells me that somebody in his office is going to South America and he can sub-let her apartment. I can't believe this, and the doorbell rings. 'I can sub-let her apartment', the words are still hanging in the air, you know, like in a balloon attached to a mouth.”

“Like in a comic book,” Jess supplies helpfully.

 

“Right,” Tyler nods. **“** So I go to the door, and there are moving men there. So now I start to get suspicious. I say, Helmut, when did you call these movers? And he doesn't say anything. So I asked the movers, when did this guy book you for this gig? And they're just _standing_ there. Three huge guys, one of them was wearing a T-shirt that says _Don't Fuck with Mr. Zero_.”

 

Tyler shakes his head, still incredulous just at the memory.

 

“So I said, _Helmut, when the fuck did you make this arrangement?_ And he says _a week ago_. I said, you’ve known for _a week_ and you didn’t tell me? And he says, I didn’t want to ruin your birthday.”

 

When the wave comes back this time, Tyler stays seated. He’s all done with the wave, thanks.

 

Jess stands, then sits, then says, “You're saying _Mr. Zero_ knew you were getting dumped a week before you did?”

 

“Mr. Zero knew,” Tyler confirms. He’s resigned to it at this point.

 

“I can’t believe that motherfucking Helmut,” Jess fumes, but Tyler just shakes his head.

 

“I haven't told you the bad part yet.”

 

Jess’s mouth gapes open.

 

“What could be worse than Mr. Zero knowing?” she asks, clearly horrified at the prospect. Tyler knows how she feels.

 

“It's all a lie,” Tyler shrugs. “He's in love with somebody else, some tax attorney. They’re living together.”

 

“What the fuck! How did you find out?”

 

 **“** I followed him. I stood outside the building.”

 

 **“** Oh Jesus, how humiliating.”

 

Tyler snorts.

 

“Tell me about it.” He pauses in case she wants to, but he really hopes she won’t. When she’s quiet, he goes on.

 

“I fucking knew it, ya know? I knew the whole time that even though we were happy it was just an illusion and that one day he would kick the shit out of me. I fucking knew it.”

 

 **“** Relationships don't break up on account of infidelity,” Jess says, like she knows anything about it. Her longest relationship is with her cat. “It's just a symptom that something else is wrong,” she goes on, and Tyler definitely would like to punch her now.

 

 **“** Oh, really?” He says blandly instead, as the teams take the ice for the third period. “Well, that symptom is fucking my husband.”

 

+++

 

Jamie is one of those people who still likes to buy real books, the kind you hold in your hands, with paper pages that you turn one by one. He doesn’t own a tablet, or a reader, or any of that.

 

He does own a lot of books, though.

 

He also likes to buy his books in person, in a book store, where he can see all his options laid out before him, touch them and hold them in his hand, test out the feel and the weight of them while he flips through them, before making his decisions.

 

Tyson thinks this is a huge waste of time and that Jamie should join the new millennium and use Amazon like a normal person, but he also thinks Half Price Books is good place to meet women. Or men, depending on how he’s feeling on any given day. So sometimes Jamie can get him to come along.

 

“So, I just happened to see his American Express bill,” Tyson says, while they’re browsing in Biographies.

 

“What do you mean you just _happened_ to see it?” Jamie has reason to be skeptical.

 

“Well, he was shaving and, I mean, he’s the one who left it open on his laptop.”

 

“What if he came out and saw you snooping around his stuff?

 

“You're missing the point,” Tyson sighs, impatient. “I'm telling you what I found. He just spent a hundred and twenty dollars on flowers for his wife. I don't think he's ever going to leave her.”

 

“No one thinks he's ever going to leave her,” Jamie reminds him. Tyson groans.

 

“You're right, you're right, I know you're right.”

 

They round the corner and Jamie stops to look at an Edward R. Murrow Bio. He weighs it in his hand, considering.

 

“Someone is staring at you, in Personal Growth.” Tyson cuts his eyes across the aisle, and Jamie follows them.

 

Shit.

 

“I know him,” Jamie whispers, looking steadfastly at his book. “You’d like him, he’s married. And gay.”

 

“Who is he?”

 

“Tyler Seguin, he’s a political consultant.”

 

“He’s hot,” Tyson says, and the spark of interest in his voice makes something tighten inexplicably in Jamie’s gut.

 

“You really think he’s hot?”

 

“Are you blind?” Tyson snorts. “Total smoke show. How do you know he's married?”

 

“Because last time I saw him he was _getting married_ ,” Jamie hisses, mostly to Edward R. Murrow’s face. He’s not going to look up again, and risk Tyler seeing him.

 

“When was that?” Jamie can tell Tyson is definitely looking at Tyler, he’s not even being subtle. Tyler’s going to notice soon, if he hasn’t already.

 

“Couple of years ago.”

 

“So he might not be married anymore. Introduce me.” Tyson wiggles his eyebrows and Jamie sighs.

 

“Also he’s obnoxious, and he never remembers me,” Jamie says. Tyson’s phone rings.

 

“I have to take this,” Tyson announces as he checks the screen, just as, right behind him, Jamie hears,

 

“Jamie Benn.”

 

Jamie sighs and turns around, resigned.

 

“Hi, Tyler.”

 

“I thought that was you,” Tyler grins, and Jamie shrugs.

 

“It was.”

 

There’s an awkward pause.

 

“This is Tyson,” Jamie says, just to fill the silence, but when he gestures to where Tyson was standing, there’s no one. He looks up to see Tyson waving at him as he sits down in the café, phone to his ear.

 

“ _Was_ Tyson,” Jamie finishes, feeling trapped.

 

“So how’ve you been?” Tyler has his hands in his pockets, and under one arm is a copy of Under the Wide and Starry Sky.

 

“Fine,” Jamie says, which is mostly true. Most days.

 

“How’s Jolie,” Tyler asks, and Jamie feels marginally less fine.

 

“Fine,” he starts, but. “I mean, I hear she’s fine.”

 

Tyler’s eyebrows go up.

 

“You’re not together anymore?”

 

“We just broke up,” Jamie shrugs, and doesn’t know what to do with his face. “What about you? How’s married life?”

 

Tyler looks at him like he also isn’t sure what to do with his face.

 

“It’s, uh. Well, not good, actually. It didn’t work out, I guess. For me.”

 

“Oh, shit,” Jamie says, “Shit, I’m really sorry. That sucks, man, that really. Yeah. Sucks.”

 

He wishes he knew what to say, and suddenly has sympathy for all those people who haven’t known what to say to _him_ for the past few months.

 

“Yeah, well,” Tyler says breezily, “what’re you gonna do, right?” He shrugs, nonchalant, but his face isn’t quite right, like it didn’t get the message that Tyler is totally fine about his divorce.

 

They stare at each other as another pause descends, but this one doesn’t feel awkward like the last one.

 

“So,” Tyler asks, somehow sounding more sincere than Jamie remembers, “what happened with you guys?”

 

+++

 

They got tired of whispering in the book store after a while, and Tyson had to go anyway because Arthur called to say his wife is at their kid’s something-or-other all day so Arthur has a few hours to come over to Tyson’s and throw him a bone, literally. So Tyler and Jamie walked around the corner to Henk’s.

 

Jamie has a piece of Black Forest Cake and a cup of coffee, and Tyler has a soft pretzel and a cup of tea that smells like strawberries.

 

Jamie keeps waiting to feel weird about this, but so far – nothing.

 

“When we started dating we wanted exactly the same thing.” He stirs his coffee mindlessly. “We wanted to live together but we didn't want to get married because every time anyone we knew got married it ruined their relationship, they practically never had sex again.”

 

Tyler laughs. It’s a nice sound.

 

“It's true,” Jamie insists. “I would sit around with my friends who have kids -. Actually, my one friend who has kids, Alex, and he would complain that he never got laid anymore.”

 

He stops and considers.

 

“He didn't even complain about it, now that I think about it. He just said it matter-of-factly - he said, they were up all night, they were both exhausted all the time, the kids just took every sexual impulse they had out of them.”

 

Jamie pauses, but Tyler just lets him sit quietly, and waits. It seems so un-Tyler-like, in Jamie’s experience. But since Tyler seems intent on letting Jamie talk,

 

“Jolie and I use to talk about it and we'd say, we’re so lucky we have this awesome relationship, we can have sex on the kitchen floor and not worry about the kids walking in, we can fly off to Rome for the weekend if we feel like it. And then one day I had Alex’s daughter for the afternoon, because she likes to come to the dog park with me. So we were hanging out on a bench playing _I-spy_. You know, I-spy a mailbox, I-spy a lamppost.”

 

Tyler has a grin on his face, and Jamie feels compelled to add,

 

“She’s four. And she looked up and saw this man and this woman just coming into the park with their dog, and these two little kids. And the man had one of the little kids on his shoulders, you know? And she said, _I spy a family._ And it just hit me, right? And I went home and I said, the thing is Jolie, we’ve never even been to Rome.”

 

“And the kitchen floor?” Tyler sounds sympathetic, like he already knows the answer.

 

“Not once,” Jamie says sadly. “It’s this super cold, hard marble tile.”

 

Tyler nods like he gets it.

 

“Anyway, we talked about it for a long time and I said, I want more than this, and she said, well I don’t, and I said, well I guess it's over. And she left. And the thing is - I feel really fine. That was it for her. That was the most that she could give. And every time I think about it I am more and more convinced that I did the right thing.”

 

“Jesus,” Tyler says enviously, “you sound like you’re handling it so well. I’m jealous.”

 

“Yeah,” Jamie says, and drinks his coffee.

 

+++

Since Tyson had to rush off to get on Arthur’s dick or whatever, Tyler agreed to drive Jamie home after Henk’s shut down and kicked them out.

 

But they just kept talking, all the way to Jamie’s place, and now they’re sitting in Tyler’s car outside Jamie’s house, still talking.

 

“At least I got the house,” Jamie says, and Tyler shrugs.

 

“That’s what everybody says to me, too. But really, what's so hard about finding a new place? What you do is, you read the obituary column. Yeah, you find out who died, and go to the funeral and you find out what the deal is with the house.”

 

Jamie snorts, and Tyler grins at him, big enough that his eyes crinkle at the sides. Jamie recognizes that look now for what it is – he’s expressed some kind of amusement, which is all Tyler needs. Now he’s going to keep going, Jamie already knows.

 

“What they should do to make it easier is to combine the obituaries with the real estate section. See, then you'd have _Mr. Klein died today_ _leaving a wife, two children, and a renovated three-bedroom Tudor in the M Streets with a wood burning fireplace.”_

 

Jamie can’t help it, he laughs.

 

“You know,” Tyler says, “the first time we met I really didn't like you that much.”

 

“I didn’t like _you_ ,” Jamie counters.

 

“Yeah you did,” Tyler says, with his typical absolute confidence, “you were just so _uptight_ then. You’re much more laid-back now.”

 

“God, I hate it when people say shit like that. It sounds like a compliment but really it’s an insult.”

 

“Okay fine, you’ve still got a giant stick up your ass,” Tyler says. Jamie shakes his head and snorts. He tips his head back against the seat.

 

“I just didn’t want to fuck you and you had to write it off as a character flaw instead of dealing with the possibility that it might have something to do with _you_.”

 

“Or it might have something to do with you being straight,” Tyler points out.

 

“Or that,” Jamie allows.

 

Quiet settles over them, the comfortable kind. Jamie looks out the window at his own front porch light and thinks how it’s kind of funny that they’re back in a car, of all places.

 

“What’s the statute of limitations on apologies,” Tyler asks quietly, and when Jamie looks at him, he’s got a soft, knowing sort of smile on his face.

 

Jamie calculates, then says, “eight years.”

 

Tyler’s smile goes wider.

 

“Ooh, I can just get it in under the wire.”

 

Jamie considers his face. It’s a nice face, not nearly as annoying as it seemed in the past. It’s been nice, talking like this to someone who gets it.

 

“Would you want to grab a beer or something, sometime,” he asks, to his own surprise.

 

“What’s this?” Tyler looks pleased. “Are we becoming friends now?”

 

“Well,” Jamie shrugs. Why not, really? “Yeah.”

 

“Great,” Tyler nods, then considers. “A straight friend, go figure. You know you may be the first hot guy I have not wanted to sleep with in my entire life?”

 

Jamie has to laugh.

 

“That’s awesome, Tyler.”

 

+++

 

Tyler mopes at work, mesmerized by the rhythmic clacking of the Newton’s Cradle on his desk for minutes at a time. Sometimes hours.

 

He texts Jamie about how shitty being single is. None of his other friends really understand.

 

He sends Jamie a constant stream of pics of his sad life: his shopping cart at Whole Foods with one steak, one potato, one cucumber, one tomato. His dogs taking over the side of the bed that used to belong to Helmut. The way the grass at his house is getting all overgrown and weedy, because that was never Tyler’s job, before, and he doesn’t know shit about, like, keeping a nice yard or whatever.

 

They have lunch, sometimes, or dinner. Sometimes just drinks. Sometimes at night Jamie calls to check on him. Tyler appreciates it, but he worries that it’s maybe at least partially out of pity rather than pure friendship.

 

Either way, he’ll take it. He tells himself they’re helping keep each other afloat. After all, Tyler checks in on Jamie, too.

 

“You sleeping?” he asks, when Jamie answers the phone and croaks _hey_ at him. It’s only ten, but the two of them have both been doing a lot of depression sleeping. You never know.

 

“No, just flipping around. Casablanca’s on.”

 

Tyler feels a pleased sort of flutter in his chest, that Jamie remembers this is something Tyler might care about. Ever since the ride down to Dallas, Tyler’s always been reminded of Jamie when he’s watching Casablanca.

 

“What channel?”

 

“TCM.”

 

“Thanks,” Tyler says, grabbing his remote. “Got it.”

 

They watch in silence for a while. It’s almost over.

 

“Now, you’re telling me you would be happier with Victor Laszlo than Humphrey Bogart?” Tyler still can’t believe anyone would say something so dumb, even a straight dude.

 

“When did I say that?” Jamie asks

 

“When we drove to Dallas.”

 

“I never said that,” he insists, “I would never have said that.”

 

“Alright, fine, have it your way.”

 

Tyler rolls his eyes, alone in his bedroom, but instead of feeling the need to argue, all he feels is fond amusement.

 

“Have you been sleeping okay?” He asks, instead of pushing the issue. “’Cause I just toss and turn. I think I just miss Helmut.”

 

Jamie doesn’t answer, so Tyler goes on.

“Maybe I’m coming down with something. Last night I was up at four in the morning watching Leave it to Beaver in Spanish. _Buenos dios Señor Cleaver, donde están Wallace y Téodor?_ Something’s wrong with me.”

 

Jamie’s low chuckle makes Tyler’s chest feel warm.

 

“Well, I went to bed last night at seven-thirty,” Jamie offers. “I haven’t done that since grade three.”

 

“That’s the good thing about depression, you get your rest.”

 

“I’m not depressed,” Jamie insists. He always insists.

 

“Okay, fine.” Tyler doesn’t push. “Do you still sleep on the same side of the bed?”

 

“I did for a while, but now I’m pretty much using the whole bed.”

 

“God, that’s great.” Tyler sighs wistfully. “I feel weird when just my leg wanders over. I _miss_ him.”

 

“I don’t miss her,” Jamie says. “I really don’t.”

 

“Not even a little?”

 

“You know what I miss? I miss the _idea_ of her.”

 

“Maybe I only miss the idea of Helmut.” Tyler stops to consider it.

 

“No, I miss the whole Helmut.”

 

“Last scene,” Jamie interrupts, and they both stop talking to watch.

 

There’s just something about Humphrey Bogart. Tyler sighs.

 

“God, Humphrey Bogart. Now he’s low maintenance.”

 

“Low maintenance?”

 

“There are two kinds of dudes,” Tyler explains patiently, “high maintenance and low maintenance.”

 

“And Humphrey Bogart is low maintenance?” Jamie sounds skeptical.

 

“An LM, definitely.”

 

“Which one am I,” Jamie asks, and Tyler grins fondly to himself again.

 

“You’re the worst kind. You’re high maintenance but you think you’re low maintenance.”

 

“I don’t see that,” Jamie says stubbornly.

 

“You don’t see that?” Tyler adopts a low, grumbling voice meant to be Jamie.

 

“Waiter, I’ll have the house salad, but I don’t want the regular dressing. I’ll have the balsamic, but on the side. And then the salmon with the mustard sauce, but I want the mustard sauce on the side. _On the side_ is a very big thing for you.”

 

“Well I just want it the way I want it,” Jamie says.

 

“I know,” Tyler smiles again. “High maintenance.”

 

Bogart says _this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship_ , and the credits roll.

 

“Best last line of a movie ever,” Tyler says with another sigh.

 

Jamie just _hmmms_ non-committally.

“I’m definitely coming down with something,” Tyler whines. Jamie still doesn’t respond, so he tries,

 

“Probably a twenty-four-hour tumor. They’re going around.”

 

“You don’t have a tumor,” Jamie snorts.

 

“How you do you know?”

 

“If you’re so worried, go see a doctor.”

 

“No, they’ll just tell me it’s nothing,” Tyler predicts sadly.

 

“Will you be able to sleep?” Jamie asks, and Tyler feels that warmth in his chest again. Jamie is actually pretty sweet, caring even. Underneath the stiff exterior and layers of inflexibility and fastidiousness and emotional (and sexual, Tyler would bet money) repression.

 

“If not, I’ll be okay.”

 

“What will you do?”

 

“I’ll stay up and moan. Maybe I should practice now.”

 

He moans loudly, and Jamie laughs.

 

“Goodnight, Tyler.”

 

Tyler moans again.

 

“Night.”

 

He ends the call, but he moans a few more times for good measure.

 

+++

 

“I had the dream again,” Tyler tells Jamie over dinner. “Where I’m having sex and the Olympic Judges are watching. I already nailed the compulsories, so this is it, the finals. I get a nine point eight from the American, a perfect ten from the Canadian, but my mother disguised as a Russian judge gave me a five point six.”

 

He shrugs and gives Jamie a devilish grin.

 

“Must have been the dismount.”

 

Jamie rolls his eyes, but he laughs, he can’t help it. Tyler’s brand of weirdo humor is growing on him, or something.

 

After an inappropriately graphic dessert conversation about how the dream might be related to some of Tyler’s adolescent sexual fantasies, and how some of his favorite jerk-off material to this day can probably trace its roots to the same line of thinking, he starts prodding about Jamie’s go-to masturbation material as they walk back down the block to Jamie’s truck.

 

“I’m not talking porn,” Tyler clarifies, “I mean just you and your imagination. In the shower, in bed already and you just want to get off and pass out, like that.”

 

“Well, basically it’s the same one I’ve been having since I was twelve,” Jamie says, uncomfortable with this line of questioning.

 

“What happens,” Tyler asks, way too invested in this for Jamie’s liking.

 

“No,” he shakes his head. “It’s too embarrassing.”

 

“Dude,” Tyler gives him a little shove, “I’ve literally told you every formative sexual thought I ever had, come on.”

 

Jamie hesitates, but Tyler does have a point.

 

“Okay, there’s this girl.”

 

Tyler nods encouragingly.

 

“What does she look like?”

 

“I don’t know, she’s just kind of - faceless.”

 

“Faceless girl, okay. Then what?”

 

“She rips off my clothes.”

 

“Then what happens?

“That’s pretty much it.”

 

Tyler stops walking. Jamie makes it a few steps before he realizes, and turns around.

 

“That’s it?” Tyler’s mouth is open, and his eyebrows are very high on his face. “A _faceless girl_ rips off your clothes, and that’s the sex fantasy you’ve been having since you were twelve? Exactly the same?”

 

Jamie shrugs. He feels compelled to defend himself.

 

“Well, sometimes I vary it a little.”

 

“Which part?”

 

“What I’m wearing.”

 

Tyler bends over at the waist like he was punched in the stomach or something. Jamie takes a step closer and puts a hand on his shoulder, a little concerned because he looks like he’s in pain.

 

It takes him a few seconds to realize, Tyler’s laughing hysterically.

 

+++

 

Tyler has wanted to go to the Perot Museum since he got to Dallas, so he was psyched that Jamie was into the idea. Helmut had never wanted to go. He always acted like it was a museum for kids, even though the website makes it very clear that the museum provides an unforgettable experience for guests _of_ _all ages_.

 

It was one of many ways that Helmut made Tyler feel immature, childish and small. It’s been long enough now, he’s starting to see that.

 

Tyler has been talking in a posh British accent all day, for no real reason. It’s exactly the kind of thing Jamie would probably have been annoyed and borderline embarrassed by, in the past, but it’s like it doesn’t even bother him anymore. Tyler can tell he thinks it’s kind of dumb at first, but then he starts giggling eventually, and by the time they’re nearing the end of the museum Jamie is playing along, mimicking the accent back at him.

 

Of course he’s terrible at it, to Tyler’s delight.

 

Tyler starts saying ridiculous stuff just to hear Jamie say, too, like _‘ello gov’nuh_ and _bloody ‘ell_ and _hands off me bollocks, you bugg’ah_.

 

“Would you like to go to the movies with me tonight?” Tyler says, and Jamie parrots it back like it’s just another phrase to try out.

 

“Not to repeat, please,” Tyler corrects, still in his posh accent, “but to answer. Would you like to go to the movies with me tonight?”

 

The grin disappears from Jamie’s face, and he reaches back to scratch at the back of his neck.

 

“Oh,” he says, and his face looks flushed.

 

“I would, man, but I can’t tonight. Sorry.”

 

“What, have you got a _hot date_?” Tyler asks, still British.

 

“Um, well,” Jamie says. “Kind of, yeah?”

 

“Really?” Tyler’s accent is back to regular: bland, regional Canadian with an odd sprinkling of North Texas.

 

“Yeah, well,” Jamie ducks his head, some more, looking awkward in a way he hardly ever does with Tyler anymore. “I was going to tell you about it but I don’t know, I just felt weird about it.”

 

“Why?”

 

Tyler’s heart gives a weird thud as he waits for the answer.

 

“Well,” Jamie shrugs. “I guess because we’ve been spending so much time together?”

 

“Dude, I think it’s great that you have a date,” Tyler says. Jamie needs to get back on the horse, it’s been months.

 

“You do?” Jamie looks relieved.

 

“Yeah, for sure.” Tyler looks at him carefully, at his standard issue straight-guy jeans and t-shirt and sneakers.

 

“Is that what you’re going to wear?”

 

Jamie looks down at himself.

 

“Yeah. Well. I guess I don’t know, why?”

 

“I think you should wear your green button down. The nice one? You look really good in that shirt.”

 

Jamie blinks at him, eyes wide.

 

“I do?”

 

“Definitely,” Tyler nods, and Jamie ducks his head again. He looks a little pink.

 

“Okay, then.”

 

Tyler points at the exhibit they’re standing in front of.

 

“You know I have a theory that hieroglyphics are really an ancient comic about a character named Sphinxy?”

 

Jamie just snorts, shakes his head.

 

As they’re headed to the car, he says,

 

“You know Tyler, I think you should get back out there, too.”

 

“Oh yeah, nah.” Tyler shakes his head emphatically. “I’m not feeling it. I’m a mess still, ya know? I wouldn’t be good for anybody right now.”

 

Jamie meets his eyes over the top of the car.

 

“It’s time,” he says seriously.

 

If Jamie’s that sure, Tyler figures he should at least think about it.

 

+++

 

Tyler’s making some changes to his townhouse. Apparently, Helmut chose everything because Tyler’s style wasn’t cool enough, or something. Jamie doesn’t really get it, other than Helmut seems like kind of a pretentious dick and Jamie’s happy to help Tyler make the house look like he wants it to, to help him get rid of those memories that make him sad.

 

He brings lunch and his dog Daisy. They put the dogs in the backyard to have a playdate and eat their Sushi Zushi on the sofa watching the Stars game. When the game’s done, they get down to what Jamie’s really here for: manual labor.

 

He helps put together a new TV stand and a bookcase, and then they move all the furniture out to the edges of the living room to roll up the old rug. They pull the new one Tyler bought on Amazon out of the dining room and start cutting it out of its plastic wrapper while they compare bad date stories.

 

“It was the most uncomfortable night of my life.”

 

They get the rug unrolled, but it’s too long.

 

“See, no, it has to go this way,” Jamie gestures, and they each grab a corner to turn it 90 degrees.

 

“The first date back is always the toughest, right?” Jamie’s trying to keep their spirits up, for both their sakes.

 

“We’ve only gone on one date,” Tyler whines. “How do you know it’s not going to get worse?”

 

“How much worse can it get than finishing dinner, having her reach up and pull a hair out of her head, and start flossing with it at the table?” Jamie thinks it’s a solid point.

 

“That’s a dream date compared to my horror show.” Tyler drags the rug a little further in his direction, until it’s roughly centered in the room.

 

“We started out fine, he’s nice enough, and we're sitting and we're talking at this Ethiopian restaurant that he wanted to go to. And I was making jokes, you know like, hey, I didn't know that they had food in Ethiopia - this will be quick; we’ll order two empty plates and we can leave."

 

Jamie laughs, even though that’s seriously inappropriate.

 

“Exactly,” Tyler points, “but nothing from him, not even a smile. So I down shift to small talk, I asked him where he went to school and he says Princeton, and of course it reminds me of Helmut. All of a sudden I'm in the middle of a full blown anxiety attack, my heart is beating like crazy and I start sweating like a pig.”

 

“Helmut went to Princeton?”

 

“No he went to Yale, but they’re both Ivy League Schools. I got so freaked out I had to leave the restaurant.”

 

“I think it’s just gonna take time,” Jamie says wisely. “It might be months before we feel normal, going out with someone new. And maybe even longer before we actually want to have sex with someone new.”

 

“Yeah, I definitely had sex with him.”

 

Jamie accidentally drops his end of the couch they’re moving.

 

“You _boned_ this guy? After the panic attack and everything?”

 

“Yeah.” Tyler shrugs, like it should be obvious.

 

Maybe it should be, but Jamie can’t help feeling. Disappointed, maybe, but that’s not right. Tyler’s allowed to have sex whenever he wants, Jamie doesn’t get to judge him. Just because Jamie’s sex drive is in the toilet and the idea of having to have awkward first-time sex with some new woman is a nightmare he’s nowhere near ready to contemplate, well.

 

Tyler obviously feels differently, and that’s okay.

 

+++

 

In high school, Tyler played hockey for the boys’ team and Jess played hockey for the girls’ team. They were voted cutest couple in Grade 11, but that summer Tyler confided to her that he possibly, probably was definitely gay. She took it pretty well, all things considered, and they’ve been best friends ever since. They even went off to University of Alberta together, but Jess hated Edmonton, hated school, hated the whole thing. They kind of drifted apart, when she went back home to Toronto after first year.

 

She started a baking blog and lived in her parents’ basement and smoked a lot of weed. She talked about going to culinary school for a while, but then one weekend she went down to New York for some job fair and got accepted to the flight attendant trainee program for American Airlines. She got posted in Dallas after she graduated from flight attendant school, and after listening to Tyler complain about the weather for the next two years, convinced him to move in with her after graduation.

 

Since Helmut moved out Tyler finds himself missing that first apartment he and Jess shared in Dallas, just sometimes. Just how cozy it was, even though it was small and generally crappy. How they’d go out dancing all the time, and smoke weed out on their tiny balcony, and get drunk on weeknights whenever she wasn’t out of town. How he’d use her flight passes to fly out and meet her in whatever city she was stuck in on the weekends, and they’d hook up on adjacent hotel beds in the same room, with no shame whatsoever. They were so young, and everything was fun and new and exciting, and nothing was complicated the way it is now.

 

Jess is a full-time blogger and freelancer now, with a much bigger, nicer apartment full of pinterest-y décor and organic produce and moderately good wine. And Tyler’s a divorcee with a mortgage and two dogs he’s responsible for, an expat who sometimes misses actual seasons and hockey fans and people who sound like him. But his life is here, now – his career, and Jess, all his friends. Jamie.

 

Jamie also played hockey in school, and now they’re on a rec league team together, which is awesome. But there’s barely any hockey in Texas, and definitely no adult, co-ed hockey, so Jess is out of luck. Jess also played softball in high school, and since they can’t play hockey together in Dallas, Tyler occasionally agrees to go the batting cages with her, so she can show him up.

 

He’s terrible at baseball, which really seems to make her feel better.

 

“I don’t understand this relationship,” she says, bat held over her shoulder, eyes focused on waiting for the next pitch.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You like hanging out with him?”

 

“Totally,” Tyler confirms, swinging and missing. Again.

 

“You think he’s hot?”

 

“Oh, for sure.”

 

“And you don’t want to fuck him.” She doesn’t sound convinced. Like, at all.

 

“No. We’re friends.”

 

“You’re afraid of getting hurt.”

 

“That’s not -.” He objects, and misses the next pitch. Whatever.

 

“It’s not about that, it’s just. We’re _friends_. Why can’t you give me some credit, here? It’s kind of a big deal for me, right? I’ve never had a relationship with a straight guy that didn't involve either me having a giant unrequited crush on him, or me being his dirty little secret. I feel like I'm, ya know - growing.”

 

He misses another pitch during his impassioned speech. There’s a kid outside the cage waiting for a turn, and he lets out an audible sigh.

 

“Are you finished yet?” The kid asks, impatient. It steps on Tyler’s last nerve.

 

“Hey, I’ve got a whole stack of quarters and I was here first,” he says, and the kid rolls his eyes.

 

“Were not,” he mutters, because he’s a kid.

 

“Was too,” Tyler replies, because he’s totally an adult.

 

“Big jerk!” the kid yells, and stomps off down the ramp.

 

“Little creep!” Tyler yells after him, then turns back to Jess.

 

“Where was I?”

 

She gives him a pointed look.

 

“You were _growing_.”

 

Tyler pretends the sarcasm goes right over his head. Not unlike some of these pitches.

 

“Well,” he goes on, “it’s awesome. Freeing, in a way. I can tell him anything, and there’s no, like, judgment or whatever.”

 

“Are saying you can tell him things you can't tell _me_?” She sounds offended at the very idea.

 

“Nah, it's just different. It's a whole new perspective. I get a guy’s point of view on things, for once.”

 

“A _straight_ guy.”

 

“Yeah, but still. He tells me about the women he dates, and I can talk to him about the guys that I hook up with.”

 

“You tell him about guys **.** Like, details. About sex. With _guys_.”

 

Tyler understands her skepticism, but Jamie is. Well, he’s special.

 

“I swear to you,” Tyler shrugs, “he’s totally cool with it.”

 

“And he’s definitely straight?”

 

“Very. That’s the point. I can say whatever to him, and the great thing is, I don’t have to lie because I’m not always thinking about how to get him into bed. I can just be myself, like. Completely.”

 

She looks at him speculatively, like she must be missing something.

 

“And you’re sure he’s hot?”

 

+++

 

Jamie and Tyler have a standing brunch date, after their Saturday morning hockey games. Tyler says it’s _very Sex and the City_ , and that Jamie is a quote-unquote _total Charlotte_.

 

It has something to do with Jamie’s thing about not really liking casual sex and preferring to actually be, like, _into_ someone before he starts getting naked with them.

 

Brunch also tends to be when Tyler tells Jamie all about the latest guy he’s boning, which is apparently also _very Sex and the City_.

 

Jamie’s never seen Sex and the City, so he’s not totally sure he understands the concepts involved. He also doesn’t really understand the dynamics of the gay hook-up culture, no matter how much Tyler tries to explain it to him. Jamie tries not to be judgmental, but Tyler sometimes makes it hard.

 

“So what do you do with these guys, you just get up out of bed and leave as soon as you get off?”

 

Tyler shrugs.

 

“Sure.”

 

Jamie can’t even imagine.

 

“Like, explain to me how you do it. What do you say?”

 

“You say you have an early meeting, or an early haircut, or to get to the gym before work.”

 

“You go to the gym at lunch.” Jamie knows this for sure, because usually they work out together.

 

“They don’t know that, they just met me.”

 

“That’s so wrong, man.”

 

“I know, I feel terrible.” Tyler shovels his eggs into his mouth, and does not look like he feels terrible, at all.

 

“Thank God I never fell for your lines. I just would’ve ended up being some dude you had to get up out of bed and leave at three o’clock in the morning to go clean your andirons. And you don’t even have a fireplace! Not that I would know that.”

 

Tyler looks at him strangely. His eyebrows seem confused.

 

“Why are you getting all wound up about this? It’s got nothing to do with you.”

 

“Yes it does,” Jamie insists. “You are a human affront to all men and I am a man.”

 

“A straight man,” Tyler tries to point out, but Jamie cuts him off.

 

“Immaterial!”

 

“Look,” Tyler shrugs again, “all these guys know what’s up, even if they pretend they don’t. Besides, I don’t hear anyone complaining.”

 

“Of course not, you’re out the door too fast.”

 

Tyler snorts.

 

“Trust me, they have a good time.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“What do you mean? I _know_.”

 

Jamie rolls his eyes.

 

“Right, because I’m sure they all tell you how hot you are, and that you’re so great in bed. And of course they couldn’t be lying just like you are, right?”

 

“Everybody gets off, okay? Any orgasm is a good orgasm, dude.”

 

“Are you really sure they’re _always_ getting off?”

 

Tyler narrows his eyes, and suddenly Jamie feels a spark of that old contentiousness, the way things used to feel so adversarial between them. He’s not sure why he keeps pushing about this, but he can’t seem to shut up.

 

“What are you saying?” Tyler looks truly affronted. “That a bunch of dudes are _faking orgasms_ because I’m so bad in bed? Get the fuck out.” He pffts and waves his hand in the air, like he’s never heard anything so ridiculous.

 

“Oh, right. That’s right, I forgot, you’re _Tyler Seguin_ , God’s gift to the men of Dallas.”

 

“Hey, any time you want me to prove it,” Tyler challenges with a sharp grin, his chin jutting.

 

Jamie rolls his eyes, but he has to take a sip of his coffee to hide the blush that he feels heating his face.

 

“Anyway,” Tyler goes on, “it’s not like it is with women, okay? It’s not like guys can really hide if they’re into it or not. I think I’d notice if there’s like, no jizz or whatever.”

 

“What if he wears a condom?”

 

“Jamie,” Tyler says faux-patiently, “I totally feel your hetero angst, okay? I get that the female orgasm is a mystery wrapped in an enigma, and the source of endless anxiety for straight dudes. But we’re talking about guys, here. Guys don’t care how they get off, and they don’t have to like you to fuck you. And they definitely don’t fake orgasms.”

 

Jamie is not sure why he’s still having this conversation, but apparently he’s going to die on this hill.

 

“I have,” he shrugs, “plenty of times.”

 

Tyler’s jaw drops. Like, literally.

 

“Plenty of times? _Plenty_?” He looks legitimately concerned. “Dude, that’s -. I mean. If you’re legit telling me you fake it on the regular? I think maybe you’ve been fucking the wrong people.”

 

And Jamie knows he didn’t mean it like -. He didn’t mean anything by it, Jamie knows, but it still lands like a fucking lead balloon on the table. There’s an awkward silence, and in that moment Jamie is acutely aware that they’re both having the same thought, at the same time.

 

He knows they’re both wondering if Jamie really _has_ been fucking the wrong people.

 

And that’s. Yeah.

 

That’s not something Jamie can even pretend to begin to unpack here, at brunch, with Tyler. He’s not sure it’s something he even _wants_ to unpack, like, at all.

 

What he needs is to steer things back to the casual, shit talking, just-joking bro vibe that they’ve pretty much perfected over these past few months, and out of this weird, fraught tension. So he grasps at the only straw he can think of: distraction.

 

“Whatever,” he says, like nothing is weird at all, “my fake is excellent. I could win an Oscar.”

 

Jamie knows that’s an opening Tyler won’t be able to pass up.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m going to have to be the judge of that,” he says with a grin, and Jamie puts down his fork, clears his throat.

 

If he gets a little carried away with the moaning and the groaning and the banging on the table, it’s worth it for the way Tyler giggles. Also for the way they can both think about the scene Jamie is causing, instead of that awkward thing where maybe Jamie has been fucking the wrong people for his entire life.

 

By the time Jamie finishes his big finale, Tyler is red faced, barely breathing, and all the people at the tables around them are staring.

 

When the waitress asks the lady at the adjacent booth for her order, she nods at Jamie and says,

 

“I’ll have what he’s having.”

 

+++

 

Tyler was kind of dreading his first Christmas alone in the house, but it turned out to be fine. Jamie helped him pick a tree, then tie it to the roof of his car, then haul it into the house, then set it up. Jess came over later, after Jamie had already left town for Victoria, to help him put on the ornaments.

 

Tyler works for a small firm, and they can’t all take vacation time at the same time just because it’s Christmas. Someone has to be there to keep the doors open, and he drew the short straw this year. But Jess’s family came down, and they might as well be his family, really, so he wasn’t lonely at all. He Skyped with his mom and dad and sisters on Christmas afternoon, and got introduced to Cassidy’s new boyfriend. He did his best to seem stern and intimidating via video.

 

Jamie’s back in time for New Year’s Eve, which Tyler is inordinately glad of, because Jess is going to a party with the guy she’s been dating, whereas Jamie is totally single and available to be Tyler’s date. They agreed it’s probably best for both of them to keep each other entertained, because New Year’s is rife with opportunities to feel like a giant loser.

 

Tyler drags Jamie out to a fancy-dress party at the Rose Room, where Cassie Nova and Krystal Summers are singing old standards in their best evening gowns, backed by a live quartet. Everyone is drinking champagne and dancing cheek to cheek, like there’s not a giant club full of half-dressed gays downstairs, grinding and sweating all over each other to remixes of Beyoncé.

 

“I like you without your beard,” Jamie says, as he spins Tyler under his arm and out away from him, then back in. He’s leading, obviously. “You can see your face.”

 

“Remains to be seen if that’s a good thing,” Tyler says, and leans back against Jamie’s arm until he gets the idea, and dips him. What good is dancing with a guy as big and strong as Jamie if he can’t even get dipped?

 

When Tyler stands back up, Jamie looks at him earnestly.

 

“I really appreciate you letting me tag along tonight. I hope I’m not cramping your style or anything.”

 

“Nah, don't sweat it,” Tyler shrugs. “What other straight guy do I know who would want to be my date to a giant gay New Year’s party? And next New Year's Eve if we’re both still single losers, you got a date.”

 

“Deal,” Jamie nods as Cassie is finishing up _It Had to be You._

There’s a pause, like the whole room stopped talking at once, where Tyler and Jamie are just looking at each other. Jamie’s hand is still on Tyler’s hip, and suddenly Tyler feels like he can’t breathe.

 

The screen behind the stage flashes a big neon 10, and Krystal announces it’s almost time to countdown to midnight.

 

Tyler is momentarily blindsided by the fact that everyone around them is going to be kissing in about 10 seconds, and it’s going to get real awkward real fast if he doesn’t get Jamie out of here.

 

“Want to get some air?” he offers, and Jamie nods. Tyler grabs his hand and drags him through the crowd and out onto the patio. It’s freezing outside, but at least Tyler can breathe.

 

He blows on his hands and wishes he hadn’t shaved his beard, as the crowd inside starts counting. The tension between him and Jamie seems to increase as the countdown numbers decrease.

 

Finally there’s a big cheer, and the band breaks into _Auld Lang Syne_. The few couples out on the patio are all hugging and kissing while he and Jamie stand there stupidly, like they’re strangers or something, and really, this is ridiculous. Tyler rolls his eyes at himself, shakes his head.

 

“Happy New Year,” he says, and leans up to kiss Jamie’s cheek. He shrugs, embarrassed for some dumb reason, but Jamie smiles.

 

“Happy New Year,” he says back, and leans over to plant a kiss on Tyler’s temple.

 

The silence stretches for another long moment, and it almost feels like -.

 

But then a waiter with a tray of complementary champagne comes out onto the patio, and they both grab for it like their lives depend on it, and turn their attention to getting drunk.

 

 

**Dallas, Texas, 2018**

Tyson circles the area about 50 times looking for street parking. Jamie looks at his watch and gets more anxious with each pass of the restaurant where they’re meeting Tyler and Jess. Finally, he loses his patience and makes Tyson park in the garage down the street, because he really doesn’t care that _it costs 15 bucks and that’s a rip off_.

 

On the walk down to the Iron Cactus, Tyson is still talking about Arthur.

 

“You made up a fake online admirer,” Jamie says, unable as usual to understand what the hell Tyson gets out of this whole situation.

 

Tyson nods, not even embarrassed.

 

“I spent like a week setting up this fucking Insta account, with pictures, stories, everything. I sent myself a message and I was just gonna leave it up on my computer where Arthur would just happen to see it and want to snoop around.”

 

“What did the message say?”

 

“I’m still thinking about you. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

 

“Did it work?”

 

Judging by the look on Tyson’s face, Jamie has a feeling he already knows the answer.

 

“He never even came over,” Tyson sighs, “He forgot this charity thing that his wife was chairman of. He’s never going to leave her!”

 

 **“** Of _course_ he isn't.”

 

Tyson groans miserably.

 

“You’re right, you’re right. I know you’re right.” He pulls his coat tighter against the cold, and groans again.

 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

 

“Look,” Jamie says reasonably, even though he really can’t believe he’s doing it either. “Tyler is one of my best friends and you’re one of my best friends. And if by some chance you two hit it off then we could all still be friends instead of drifting apart the way you do when you get involved with someone who doesn't know your friends.”

 

“You and I haven't drifted apart since I’ve been with Arthur.”

 

Jamie stops walking, and turns to Tyson.

 

“If Arthur ever left his wife and I actually met him, I’m sure you and I would drift apart.”

 

Tyson nods slowly.

 

“He’s never going to leave her.”

 

“Of _course_ he isn’t,” Jamie says, and starts walking again.

 

Tyson trails along after him, muttering and shaking his head.

 

“You’re right, you’re right. I know you’re right.”

 

+++

 

Tyler can’t remember whose idea this was, but he’s pretty sure it was his. It’s not his fault, really, it just happened.

 

Tyler had just flipped Jamie a sweet little saucer that he handled like a pro, then slid it right past the (admittedly terrible) backup goalie that was in net for their opponents, whose starting net minder was at his kid’s taekwondo tournament in Austin. Tyler smashed Jamie into the boards and Jamie’s arms went around him, and in that moment Tyler suddenly decided it was really important for Jamie to find a girlfriend. Soon.

 

Jess’s thing with the guy she’d been dating had fizzled out by then, so he figured, why not?

 

Tyler agreeing to a date with Tyson was Jamie’s condition for accepting a date with Jess, so Tyler acquiesced, even though everything Tyler has heard about Tyson makes him sound like kind of a disaster.

 

“I don’t know about this,” Jess bitches, even though they’re literally a block away at this point, and there’s no way out but through.

 

“It’s just dinner,” Tyler says, for his benefit as much as for hers. “And anyway, what about me? A quote-unquote _bi_ guy? I mean what is this, college? Pick a side already.”

 

Jess sighs, put-upon.

 

“It’s like, I've finally gotten to a place in my life where I'm comfortable with the fact that it's just me and my cats and my laptop. Why am I doing this to myself?”

 

Tyler goes on like she hasn’t even spoken,

 

“And he’s had this thing with some married closet case for like, 3 years or something. And before that he had a girlfriend! I mean this can’t end well, right?”

 

“We’re getting too old for this bullshit, Tyler, seriously. And if this Jamie guy is so great why aren't you with him?”

 

“How many times do I have to tell you, he’s straight,” Tyler snaps defensively. “We're just friends.”

 

“So you're saying he's not that hot.”

 

“What? No! I told you he _is_ hot.”

 

“Yeah, but you also said he has a good personality.”

 

“He _has_ a good personality.”

 

Jess stops walking and flings her arms in the air, exasperated.

 

“What?”

 

“When someone is _not_ cute, people always say they have a great personality.”

 

She says it accusingly, like she’s caught Tyler in a lie.

 

“Look,” he says, “if you asked me what does he look like, and I said he has a great personality, then yeah, he’s definitely not cute. But just because I happened to mention that he’s a chill guy with a good personality, he could be either – he could be cute with a good personality, or not cute with a good personality.”

 

“So which one is he?” Jess asks, and Tyler rolls his eyes.

 

“ _Cute_.”

 

“But not hot, right?”

 

Tyler sighs, and starts walking again.

 

+++

Jamie’s first impression of Jess is that she’s kind of scary. She’s very tall, which Jamie actually likes, but it does add to the intimidation factor. She’s got this intense, almost hard look in her eye, and serious red lips that make her seem sort of.

 

Severe.

 

She’s a writer, so they have that in common, but all Jamie’s attempts to ask her about her work are met with one sentence answers and no reciprocal inquiries whatsoever. She’s obviously not happy to be here, and Jamie can’t help but wonder if she felt that way before she came, or if he’s just that disappointing.

 

He tries to pay attention to her and not get distracted by trying to gauge how Tyler and Tyson are getting along next to them, but she picks up her menu and holds it up in front of her face, and Jamie figures that’s clear enough. He holds in a sigh.

 

The small talk between Tyler and Tyson winds down at just the same time, and silence descends over the table. Jamie cuts his eyes to Tyler, and raises his eyebrows. Tyler just shrugs, completely unhelpfully.

 

Jamie sighs out loud this time.

 

“Tyson,” he says pointedly, “you and Tyler are both from the GTA.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” Tyson looks over at Tyler.

 

“Where you from?” Tyler asks.

 

“Newmarket.”

 

“Whitby.”

 

“Ah,” Tyson nods, and that’s it, that’s the end of it. Jamie grits his teeth.

 

He raises his eyebrows at Tyler again, more sternly this time.

 

“So,” Tyler says, finally. “What’s everybody going to order?”

 

Jamie jumps in.

 

“I think I’m gonna try the crab-stuffed jalapenos, for an app.”

 

Tyler grins.

 

“Jess, Jamie is a great orderer. Not only does he always pick the best thing on the menu, but he orders it in a way that the kitchen staff will definitely spit in it, one hundred percent of the time.”

 

Jamie rolls his eyes at Tyler across the table, but Jess doesn’t look up from her menu.

 

“I think all this trendy shit is kind of over-rated,” she shrugs. “It’s like suddenly everybody has to be a foodie and only eat the newest-freshest-local-seasonal-organic-fair-trade-humanely-raised _whatever_. It’s like, I’m just trying to have dinner, I don’t need it to have some kind of deeper meaning. It’s exhausting.”

 

“Oh man, totally,” Tyson pipes up. “Restaurants are to people in the twenty-first century what theater was to people in the twentieth century.”

 

Jamie looks at him, eyebrow raised, because seriously, where the hell did that come from. Tyson looks sheepish.

 

“I read that in a magazine,” he admits.

 

Jess slaps her menu down on the table.

 

“I wrote that.”

 

Tyson gapes.

 

“Shut up, you did not.”

 

“I did!” Jess smiles, for the first time tonight as far as Jamie’s aware. “I wrote that!”

 

“I’ve never quoted anything from a magazine in my life,” Tyson says. “That’s just crazy! Don’t you think that’s _crazy_? And you _wrote_ it? Get out!”

 

“I did,” Jess’s smile is wide and bright. She’s actually really beautiful, Jamie is just realizing.

 

“Where did I read that?”

 

“D Magazine.”

 

“Jamie writes for D Magazine sometimes,” Tyler tries, but neither Jess or Tyson are paying attention, too busy chattering to each other about how _crazy_ it all is.

 

Jamie meets his eyes, and shrugs.

 

+++

 

Tyson and Jess carry the conversation from there, laughing and talking so much they barely even touch their food while Tyler and Jamie quietly stuff their faces.

 

They go upstairs to the rooftop bar for drinks after dinner, and on the way Jess stops at the ladies’ room, and motions for Tyler to follow her.

 

It’s noisy, loud music from the bar upstairs mingling with the clattering and clanging of the kitchen noise from the restaurant, so Tyler just grabs the hem of Jamie’s jacket and tugs.

 

When Jamie looks back, Tyler makes a vague gesture from himself to the restrooms to the stairs, which Jamie seems to understand means they’ll be up in a minute. He nods, then turns and follows Tyson up to the roof. Tyler follows Jess into the dark hallway between the Men’s and Women’s.

 

“If you don’t think you’re into Tyson, do you mind if I see what’s up there? I mean you said he’s bi, right?”

 

“Right,” Tyler confirms, resigned.

 

“Like, _really_ bi or _I don’t want to admit I’m gay yet_ bi? Do you know? Because I’m getting a vibe from him. Like a sexy, _I like to fuck girls_ vibe.”

 

“I don’t really -.” Tyler holds up his hands. “I mean, I just know he’s dated girls before.”

 

“Good, good, good,” Jess is nodding, a little drunk clearly, and eyes all sparkly and excited like a kid on Christmas. Jesus Christ.

 

“It’s just, I mean, Jamie’s been through a lot,” Tyler says. “He’s had a lot of rejection lately with the breakup and dating not going so well for him and everything. Like, you can get in touch with Tyson, that’s totally fine, but maybe just wait a week or so, okay? Don’t make any moves tonight.”

 

“Right, no problem,” Jess nods emphatically. “I wasn’t even thinking about tonight.”

 

+++

 

It’s a nice night for February, but it’s still cold enough that the rooftop bar isn’t too crowded. In the summer, you can’t even move up here, but now Jamie and Tyson can get right to the bar to order their drinks, can find a table under a heat lamp, no problem.

 

Tyson is sucking his drink down at warp speed, practically bouncing on his barstool. His phone isn’t on the table, which is weird enough, but Jamie tries to remember if he’s seen Tyson check it at all tonight.

 

He doesn’t think he has.

 

Usually Tyson is glued to that thing, thirsty as hell, just waiting for Arthur to text or whatever. The fact that it’s been in his pocket all night tells Jamie everything he needs to know about where Tyson’s head is.

 

He sips his drink and waits, but he knows what’s coming. Tyson looks over toward the stairs two, then three times, then finally blurts,

 

“What do you think of Jess?”

 

“Well,” Jamie says unsurely, “uh.”

 

“Do you think you want to go out with her,” Tyson rushes on, “’cause I feel really, I don’t know. Something’s there, I think, with her? Us?”

 

Jamie nods, feeling defeated.

 

“You want to go out with Jess.” It’s not a question.

 

“If it’s cool with you, I mean,” Tyson holds his hands up.

 

“Sure, sure,” Jamie shrugs, “I don’t care, that’s fine. I’m just worried about Tyler. He’s not really in a great place, he’s been depressed and it’s like, I just don’t want you to reject him outright, or whatever. You know?”

 

“I wouldn’t,” Tyson shakes his head sincerely, “I totally understand. I’ll be cool, don’t worry.”

 

Jess and Tyler walk over then; Tyler perches on one of the stools, looking exhausted. When the waitress comes over, he orders a flight of Herradura.

 

“Well,” Jess says brightly, standing at the end of the table, “I don’t really feel much like drinking anymore. I think I’ll call it a night.”

 

“Finish your drinks,” Tyson pipes up, gesturing between Jamie and Tyler while he slides his keys into Jamie’s hand under the table, “I’ll walk Jess to her car.”

 

“Oh, that would be great, thanks!”

 

Tyson’s stool makes a hideous screech against the concrete as he shoves it back, and they’re down the stairs and out of sight before Jamie even knows what hit him.

 

Tyler raises an eyebrow, a question he doesn’t really need to ask.

 

Jamie just holds up Tyson’s keys by way of response – he’s obviously not planning on coming back.

 

When the waitress brings Tyler his tequila flight, Jamie sucks down the last of his margarita, and orders a flight of his own.

 

+++

 

Tyler got spectacularly drunk, alone, on the one-year anniversary of Mr. Zero showing up at his front door. Then he decided he was done being a sad sack of shit, and it was time to get his life back together.

 

He’s been doing better, less sleeping and more working out, less drinking and more eating healthy. Jamie’s been great for that, because shit, he was always built like a brick house, but he’s _really_ gotten jacked since he and Jolie broke up. Tyler’s just following his lead at this point, eating as many meals as possible together and working out together most days, following Jamie’s crazy-restrictive diet and exercise plan, hoping for some of the same results for himself.

 

Jamie has also got a new haircut recently, under Tyler’s careful supervision, which has taken him from average straight guy cute to, not to put too fine a point on things, hot like fire. The women of Dallas owe Tyler a serious debt of gratitude – as does Jamie, who is finally having a little more luck with dating. He’s been cagey about divulging whether or not he’s actually gotten his dick wet on any of these dates he’s been going on lately, but not for lack of Tyler needling him about it.

 

Tyler’s been getting his dick wet plenty, thanks, but he’s yet to try an actual date again, since the debacle with Tyson and Jess.

 

Which didn’t actually turn out to be a total debacle, if he looks at it a little less selfishly. Because his best friend is crazy in love with his other best friend’s best friend, and now they’re moving in together. Tyler really is happy for them, if maybe the tiniest bit envious.

 

“I have to get this,” the tells Jamie, “look! I have to get this!”

 

Jamie smiles his indulgent, Tyler’s being an idiot but I kind of like it smile.

 

“We’re here for Jess and Tyson, get your head on straight.”

 

“I know, we’ll find them something.” Tyler gestures around at the random array of merchandise. “There’s great stuff here.”

 

Jamie doesn’t look convinced.

 

“We should’ve gone to the plant store.”

 

“Here,” Tyler puts a helmet on Jamie’s head, “this is perfect for them.”

 

Jamie just stands still, long suffering.

 

“What is this?”

 

Tyler reads off the box,

 

“Battery operated pith helmet, with fan.”

 

“Why is this necessary in life?” Jamie wants to know, which Tyler has to admit is fair question.

 

“Oh, hey, call off the dogs, the hunt is over.” Tyler picks up the microphone that’s attached to a fancy, professional-style karaoke system. “Jamie,” he intones into the mic, “please report to me.”

 

Jamie takes the helmet off and puts it back where Tyler found it, and gives Tyler a _look_.

 

“Just look at this, this is the greatest, you're going to love this. It’s a karaoke machine.” Tyler points toward the TV that’s used as part of the display. “Look, you sing the lead and it plays the backup track and everything. This is from _Oklahoma!_ Here’s the lyrics right here.” He points to the screen again where the song is paused.

 

“ _Surrey with the Fringe on Top_ ,” Jamie reads dubiously, while Tyler pushes play on the unit. The music swells.

 

“Yes, perfect,” Tyler says, then he starts to sing.

 

“Chicks and ducks and geese better scurry / When I take you out in my surrey / When I take you out in my surrey with the fringe / On top. Now you!”

 

He holds the mic up to Jamie’s mouth and to Tyler’s surprise, he joins in without missing a beat.

 

“Watch that fringe and see how it flutters,” Jamie sings along with him, truly horribly. “When I drive those high-steppin’ strutters / Nosy folks will peek through the shutters and their eyes / Will pop!”

 

Jamie takes the mic then, really coming into his own as the lead vocalist, but Tyler is too distracted to enjoy it. Because across the store, looking at him disapprovingly, is Helmut.

 

Helmut, who was Tyler’s husband, who is hand in hand with the man for whom he left Tyler, broke up their home, and ended their marriage.

 

Tyler goes still, and silent. He wishes the floor would swallow him up. He wishes Jamie would stop singing into a microphone like an idiot while Helmut is looking at them.

 

Jamie notices the stricken look on Tyler’s face, and stops his warbling mid-verse.

 

“What?” He asks, still into the microphone, so the whole store can hear. “It’s my voice isn’t it? I hate my voice, I know, it’s terrible. Jolie hated it, too.”

 

“It’s Helmut,” Tyler whispers, and Jamie’s eyes go wide.

 

“Helmut?” he says dumbly, still into the fucking microphone. Tyler reaches up to yank it away from him and flips off the music. Helmut is walking over now, Jesus, and there’s no time to escape, no place to run.

 

“How are you Tyler?” Helmut asks, his accent making him sound like a Bond villain. How did Tyler never notice that before?

 

“Fine,” Tyler shrugs blankly. “I’m fine.”

 

“This is Ira Stone,” Helmut nods to the man he’s holding hands with, then gestures at Tyler. “Tyler Seguin.”

 

Ira nods awkwardly, and Jamie elbows him. Tyler shakes his head, tries to get his shit together.

 

“Sorry,” he says, to no one in particular. “This is Jamie, Jamie Benn.” He nods at Helmut. “This is Helmut Heinz, and. Ira.”

 

They all murmur awkward _nice to meet you_ ’s, then silence. Tyler feels Jamie’s hand wrap around his bicep, and squeeze.

 

“Well,” Helmut says finally, in that way he has that always leaves Tyler feeling like he’s been a crushing disappointment, “see you.”

 

He gives a little wave.

 

“Yeah,” Tyler says flatly as they walk away. “Bye.”

 

“Are you okay,” Jamie asks immediately, as soon as they’re out of ear shot.

 

“Yeah,” Tyler nods automatically, “I’m perfect. He looked weird, didn’t he? He looked really weird.”

 

“I’ve never seen him before,” Jamie shrugs, and there’s pity in his eyes that Tyler _hates_.

 

“Trust me,” Tyler says, suddenly feeling nasty, “he looked weird. He looked, like, puffy, or something. Fatter. Definitely fatter.”

 

“ _Tyler_ ,” Jamie says, softly reproachful, because Jamie would never say anything so inappropriate and unkind in a million years.

 

But Tyler feels too exposed, like a raw nerve, and it makes him mean; he can barely keep the sneer off his face.

 

“Well, he did,” he insists, matter-of-fact. “Believe me, he never met a schnitzel he didn’t want to smother in gravy and eat.”

 

They go to the garden store after all, and Jamie picks a nice potted plant while Tyler stares off into space.

 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks as they wait to check out.

 

“Oh sure, I’m fine,” Tyler shrugs. “In a city of one  point two million people you’re bound to run into your ex, so boom, it happened, and now I’m fine.”

 

Jamie lets it go, lets him stew in silence all the way to Jess and Tyson’s new place, carries the conversation when they get there so their friends really don’t even notice Tyler’s not talking.

 

They get the grand tour, and it’s a nice place – a new-build townhome, one of those three-level types that have a garage and an office on the ground floor, open plan kitchen-dining-living on the second level, and two bedrooms on the third floor, with a rooftop deck. Tyler remembers, he looked at lots of them with Helmut before they bought their place.

 

The place is stacked with boxes and half-unpacked Rubbermaid tubs, and too much furniture. Tyler remembers that, too – moving in together, he and Helmut sorting through all their stuff, deciding what fit into their new house and what didn’t, who had the better sofa, the better dishes, whose coffee maker they should keep and whose could be donated. Combining lives.

 

It had seemed so exciting, so romantic back then.

 

Jess tries to enlist their support for using her coffee table in the living area instead of Tyson’s, even though it’s some Pinterest project with “weathered” paint that just makes it look shabby, and not in the chic way.

 

“I like it,” she says to the room at large, as they all survey the wreck of a coffee table. “It works. It says home to me.”

 

“Alright, alright,” Tyson says reasonably, “we’ll let Tyler and Jamie be the judge. What do you think?”

 

“It’s nice,” Tyler shrugs, and Jess puts her arms up like she scored a touchdown.

 

“Case closed!”

 

“Of course he likes it, he’s got to pick your side. Jamie?” Tyson prompts.

 

Jamie looks at it skeptically, and shakes his head, a silent _no_.

 

“What’s so awful about it?” Jess whines, and Tyson takes her hands.

 

“Babe. It’s so awful, there’s no way even to begin to explain what’s so awful about it.”

 

“Babe, I’m not objecting to any of your stuff,” Jess points out.

 

“If we had extra room you could keep all of your things, including your bar stools,” Tyson says, “but -.”

 

“Wait, no, babe, what? Tys, seriously, babe, wait – you don’t like my barstools?” She looks incredulous. Tyson shrugs innocently.

 

“Tyler, come on,” she looks at him, beseeching, “someone has to be on my side!”

 

“Babe,” Tyson rubs his hands up and down her arms, comforting and sweet, “I’m on your side. I just want our place to look awesome, that’s all.”

 

They go on bickering, soft and cute with no heat to it, because they’re at that stage where everything is perfect and you can’t imagine anything could ever go wrong.

 

No one seems to have noticed that Tyler’s barely spoken at all, until he does.

 

“You know, it’s funny,” he says suddenly, and they all turn to look at him. “We started out like this, Helmut and I. We had blank walls, we hung things, we picked out tiles together. Then you know what happens? Five years later you find yourself singing _Surrey with the Fringe on Top_ , in front of Ira!”

 

Tyson and Jess look bewildered at his outburst. Jamie’s hand wraps around his bicep, again.

 

“Do we have to talk about this right now?” he asks softly.

 

“Yes!” Tyler announces. “Yes, I think that right now actually is the perfect time to talk about this, because I want our friends to benefit from the wisdom of my experience.” He turns to Tyson and Jess.

 

“Right now everything is great, everyone is happy, everyone is in love, but you’ve got to know that sooner or later, you're going to be screaming at other about who's going to get this dish.”

 

He holds up a plate from the kitchen island.

 

“This eight dollar dish will cost you a thousand dollars in phone calls to the legal firm of _That’s Mine, This is Yours_.”

 

“ _Tyler_ ,” Jamie says softly, that same admonishing way he did when Tyler said Helmut looked fat. Well, fuck that.

 

“Please, Jess, Tyson, do me a favor, for your own good. Put your name in your books right now, before they get mixed up and you don't know whose is whose. Because one day, believe it or not, you'll go fifteen rounds over who's going to get this coffee table. This stupid, hideous, Pinterest-Fail, Garage Sale coffee table!”

 

It’s quiet for a minute. Tyler is breathing heavily. Then Jess says, all accusatory,

 

“You said you liked it!”

 

And Tyler can’t take any more.

 

“ _I was being nice_!” he screams, like a person for whom being nice is a real hardship, and he flees toward the stairs. There’s not even a door he can slam until he goes one floor down.

 

As he’s taking the stairs two at a time, he hears Jamie explaining, _he just bumped into Helmut_.

 

He pauses, just for a minute, to eavesdrop on the response. He’s not sure what he was expecting, but all he hears is silence, then Tyson says in his stupid, soft, sincere _in love_ voice,

 

“Babe, I promise you. That I will never, ever want that Pinterest-Fail coffee table.”

 

Tyler slams the door on his way out, but there’s no satisfaction in it.

 

“I know, I know,” he says the minute Jamie comes outside after him. “I shouldn’t have done it.”

 

Jamie sighs and shakes his head, so disappointed. It does not help Tyler’s mood.

 

“Dude,” he says, “you’re gonna have to find a way to keep from just saying every thought you have out loud, the second you have it.”

 

“Oh, really?” Tyler rolls his eyes.

 

“Yeah,” Jamie nods. “Like, there are times and places for things. Read the room.”

 

“Well, the next time you’re giving a lecture series on social graces would you let me know, ‘cause I’ll be sure to sign up,” Tyler snaps.

 

“Hey!” Jamie holds his hands up, defensive, “you don’t have to take your anger out on me.”

 

“Oh, I think I’m entitled to throw a little anger your way,” Tyler sneers. “Especially when I’m being told how to live my life by fuckin’ Mister Cool Guy over here.”

 

Jamie snorts.

 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

 

“I mean _nothing bothers you_. You never get upset about anything!”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” Jamie says, but Tyler barrels on.

 

“What?” he demands, hands up, imploring. “You never get upset about Jolie, I never see that effecting you. How is that even _possible_? I mean, are you a robot? Don’t you have any _feelings_?”

 

Jamie crosses his arms. He looks pretty imposing that way; they’re really big fucking arms.

 

“You know what, I don’t need this shit.”

 

He looks like he’s about to retreat, to turn around and go back inside, but Tyler’s not done. The rage is still bubbling inside him, he’s still ready for a fight.

 

He steps between Jamie and the front porch.

 

“If you’re so over Jolie,” he challenges, “why aren’t you dating anyone new?”

 

“I date people!” Jamie insists, but Tyler just snorts.

 

“ _Date_ _people_. Have you actually gotten your dick wet _at all_ since you broke up with Jolie? Like, even once?”

 

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Jamie growls, and Tyler can tell he’s touched a nerve.

 

“That will prove I’m over Jolie, because I fuck somebody? Ty, you’re gonna have to move back to Canada because you’ve already hooked up with everybody in Dallas, and I don’t see that turning Helmut in to a faint memory for you! I told you, when I sleep with someone it will be because it actually _means_ something, not the way you do it, like you’re out for revenge, or something.”

 

Something about seeing Jamie all pissed off and righteously indignant makes Tyler’s own anger and frustration dissipate, just like that. He doesn’t want to fight with Jamie, of all people. He doesn’t ever want Jamie to be upset.

 

“Are you finished now,” he asks softly, his voice contrite.

 

Jamie takes a deep breath, and blows it out slowly.

 

“Yes,” he confirms calmly, and Tyler nods.

 

“Can I say something?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Tyler says, and launches himself at Jamie. “I’m really sorry.”

 

Jamie wraps his arms around Tyler, and he’s so big, and warm, Tyler just melts against him. He hangs on tight, breathing deep against Jamie’s chest, and Jamie just lets him.

 

They stay that way until Jess comes out the front door, dragging the Pinterest-Fail coffee table.

 

Tyler opens his mouth, but she holds up a hand.

 

“Don’t say a word,” she says, and Tyler figures now’s as good a time as any to start practicing when to shut up.

 

+++

 

It’s not like it’s because of what Tyler said, but Jamie gets a girlfriend not long after their fight. He’s been doing the Tinder thing, which is pretty brutal, but he switches to Bumble because he thinks maybe letting the women take the lead will be more his speed.

 

Julia contacts him the very first day.

 

She’s smart and pretty and tiny, but very confident. She plans all their dates, and insists on paying for half. She makes the first move basically all the way along, up to and including the night of their seventh date, when she tells Jamie he should stay over before they even go out. He appreciates that, so he can prepare, and bring a tooth brush and stuff.

 

After dinner they go back to her house, which is much nicer than Jamie’s, and she takes his clothes off, pushes him onto her bed, and climbs on top of him. He basically just lays there while she does her thing, which definitely helps his nerves about the whole new sex partner thing.

 

She runs her hands all over his stomach and arms like she likes what she sees, so that’s a nice ego boost, and even though he hasn’t gotten laid in like, a year and a half, he still manages to last long enough to get her off twice before he blows, so all in all he feels like it’s a win.

 

He takes her with him to game night at Jess and Tyson’s, because he’s always terrible at those games they make him play, but Julia seems like she’ll probably be great at them.

 

“Uh, it's a monkey. It's a monkey! Monkey see, monkey do!” Jess yells, while Jamie tries his best with his limited artistic skill. “It’s – an ape? Going ape!”

 

“It’s a baby,” Alex says, and that’s something at least. Jamie points to him, to let him know he’s on the right track.

 

“Planet of the Apes!” Jess yells.

 

“Planet of the Apes? He just said it’s a baby,” Tyler smacks Jess in the thigh. “More like Planet of the Dopes.”

 

“It doesn’t _look_ like a baby,” Jess complains.

 

“It’s got a big mouth,” Tyler agrees, then tries, “Mick Jagger as a baby!”

 

“Baby ape! Baby ape!” Jess keeps on screaming. Tyler smacks her again.

 

“Stop with the apes, can you please?”

 

“Uh, baby’s breath?” Julia asks softly, which is actually a pretty good guess considering Jamie is just drawing a bunch of lines coming out of the baby’s mouth, over and over. Good, but not right.

 

He shakes his head.

 

“Rosemary’s baby… ‘s mouth,” Tyler says, and Jamie rolls his eyes. Tyler grins at him, and Jamie knows Tyler’s about to start spouting a bunch of puns and nonsense. Jamie’s pretty sure that’s the whole reason he always wants to play games like this.

 

“Won’t you come home Bill Baby,” he calls, obviously a reference to something, but Jamie has no idea what. “Melancholy baby’s mouth!” comes next, another reference Jamie doesn’t get.

 

“Baby fish mouth! Baby fish mouth!” Jess screams, and Tyler smacks her again.

 

Someone yells that there’s fifteen seconds left. Jamie’s got no new ideas, so he just keeps doing the same thing.

 

“Baby boom?” Alex suggests.

 

“Draw something resembling anything!” Jess begs.

 

“Crying baby? Kiss the baby?” Alex is doing his best, but Jamie has to shake his head again.

 

“Exorcist baby!” Tyler giggles, cracking himself up and not even trying, anymore.

 

“Yes, sir – that’s my baby!” Jess sings.

 

“No, sir, don’t mean maybe,” Tyler joins in. The two of them really deserve each other.

 

Somebody makes a buzzer sound, and that’s it. Jamie is terrible at this game.

 

“Baby talk,” he sighs, and everyone groans.

 

“Baby talk!,” Jess is outraged, “What’s that? That’s not a _saying_.” She holds up the card where the category reads: Sayings.

 

“Oh, but _baby fish mouth_ is sweeping the nation,” Tyler laughs, and she smacks him. “It is!” he holds up his hands in defense, still giggling, “All the cool kids are using it!”

 

“Final score,” Alex’s wife announces, “our team: one-ten, you guys: sixty.”

 

Everybody stands up to stretch, and Julia comes over and puts her hand on Jamie’s arm.

 

“I can’t draw,” he says, pointing out the obvious.

 

“I don’t know,” she says kindly, “that’s a baby, and that’s clearly talking.” She points to the drawing. “It’s kind of perfect.”

 

She smiles at him, and Jamie leans down to kiss her.

 

“Anyone want dessert?” Tyson asks the room at large.

 

“I do, and I love you!” Jess calls.

 

Tyson starts taking orders, and Jamie goes with him to the kitchen to help. Tyler’s new boyfriend Emile puts a hand on Tyson’s arm.

 

“Where is the bathroom?” he asks with his lilting French accent, and Jamie feels a completely unjustified wave of dislike. Emile has been nothing but nice to him.

 

Tyson points him down the hall.

 

“Emile is a little young for Tyler, don’t you think?” Jamie says while Tyson is cutting up the cake. He knows he probably sounds petty, but he’s going to blame it on the wine if Tyson calls him on it.

 

“He’s young,” Tyson shrugs, “but look what he’s done.”

 

“What has he done?” Jamie’s sticking with the petty thing a little longer, “He makes _desserts_.”

 

Tyson gives him a raised eyebrow and some side-eye.

 

“It’s called a pastry chef? And he got a Michelin Star, _in France_ , so.”

 

Jamie doesn’t know exactly what that is, but he knows by the way Tyson says it, it must be impressive.

 

“Well, Tyler doesn't even like sweets.”

 

Tyson just ignores him.

 

“Julia seems cool.”

 

“I know,” Jamie nods, “she’s like a real adult.”

 

She’s such an adult that it’s a little intense, actually, but he doesn’t mention that to Tyson. All things considered, Jamie knows he could do a lot worse.

 

+++

 

Emile kisses Tyler’s cheek before he heads to the bathroom. Up close, he smells like something spicy and sweet that Tyler has come to associate with Emile’s naked skin. Tyler feels his dick twitch just from the smell, and he has to adjust himself.

 

Emile is – well, sexy. With the French accent and the delicious-smelling cologne and the expert-level blowjobs. Tyler is definitely into the sex.

 

The rest of it is, ya know. Okay.

 

Tyler watches as Jamie basically has to bend at the waist to kiss his new girlfriend, then he goes to help Tyson cut up the fancy cake Emile brought. Jess walks over to Julia, and points at Jamie’s drawing.

 

“Doesn’t look like a baby to me,” she bitches, and Tyler rolls his eyes to himself. Jess is ridiculously competitive.

 

“Which part?” Julia asks politely.

 

“All of it,” Jess says, perturbed, and Tyler feels like he should intervene.

 

“Hey Jess, you were gonna show me the cover of your book.”

 

“Oh yeah! Come on, it’s downstairs.”

 

“Does Julia seem a little stuck up to you?” He asks casually, once they’re downstairs in Jess’s office, out of earshot.

 

Jess shrugs, rummaging distractedly through the piles of paper on her desk.

 

“She’s a cool girl, you should talk to her, get to know her.”

 

“She’s too short to talk to,” he says, and Jess looks up and raises her eyebrow.

 

“Don’t be stupid. We all went to a Rangers game last week, she’s fun.”

 

“You all went to a Rangers game together?”

 

“Yeah, but. I mean, it was like, a last minute thing.”

 

Tyler grits his teeth.

 

“But Jamie hates going to summer games, he says it’s too hot.”

 

Jess ignores him and keeps digging, until finally she finds the printed spec for the cover art of her new book. She holds it up triumphantly, and Tyler leans in to examine it.

 

“So Emile is nice,” she says.

 

“Yeah,” Tyler nods absently as he admires the artwork. “Except, when I said I always knew Nick was the best Jonas brother, he said, _Nick Jonas has brothers_?”

 

“Ugh,” Jess shakes her head. “Children.”

 

The thing is, Emile is 23, and Tyler is 30, and that doesn’t seem like that much in theory – like, seven years, big deal, right? – but in all honestly, he doesn’t love it.

 

He especially didn’t love it when Emile said he loves _older men_ , while running his fingers through Tyler’s chest hair.

 

Tyler’s definitely too young to be anyone’s older man.

 

+++

 

Jamie hasn’t talked to Jolie in almost two years, so it’s a surprise, to say the least, when her number pops up on his phone.

 

It’s weird sometimes, because they were together for three years – his longest relationship, by far. And he lives in a house she chose and sleeps in a bed she chose on he eats off of plates she chose and dries off with towels she chose, and so on, yet Jamie rarely thinks of her at all.

 

Until she calls and drops a bomb on him, of course.

 

“Are you alone,” he asks, as soon as Tyler answers. He knows Tyler and Emile broke up, but that doesn’t really mean anything where Tyler’s nighttime activities are concerned.

 

“Yeah,” Tyler confirms, “I was just finishing a book.”

 

Jamie knows that really means he was reading the end of a book he’ll probably never read the middle of.

 

“Could you come over?” He asks, more urgently than he means to.

 

“What’s the matter?” Tyler sounds immediately alarmed.

 

“She’s getting married,” Jamie says miserably.

 

“Who?”

 

“ _Jolie_.”

 

“Oh shit,” Tyler breathes. “I’ll be right there.”

 

Jamie knows his red eyes and rough voice give him away as soon as Tyler arrives – it’s obvious he’s been crying.

 

It’s embarrassing, and part of him wishes he hadn’t called Tyler, but another part of him, just.

 

He just wanted Tyler here, is all. Wanted someone to talk to, to lean on. Someone he knows he can trust, someone he can be totally open and honest with and not worry that he’s going to be judged or anything.

 

When he feels bad, Tyler is good at making him feel better. That’s all.

 

Tyler gets them both beer, and they settle in on the couch. Jamie has a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

 

“She just called me up, all, _wanted to see how you were_. I’m like, fine, how are you? Fine. Her assistant's on vacation, everything's all backed up and she's got a big case in Houston, blah blah blah. And I'm sitting on the phone thinking who cares? Like, I can't believe that I was ever remotely interested in any of this, ya know? And then she said I have some news.”

 

He takes a deep breath, blows it out slow. He blinks a few times, and swallows against the tightness in his throat.

 

“He works in her office, he's in IT, his name is Kevin. She _just met him_. I mean, he’s supposed to be her rebound person, right? He's not supposed to be _the one_.”

 

He takes another deep breath. Tyler moves closer on the couch, and slings his arm around Jamie’s shoulders. Jamie can’t bring himself to look at Tyler’s face.

 

“All this time I've been saying that she didn't want to get married, but the truth is, she didn't want to marry _me_. She didn't love me.”

 

Jamie feels the shame of his admission hanging in the air, but Tyler just squeezes him tight.

 

“If you could take her back right now, would you?” he asks, and Jamie rolls his eyes.

 

“ _No_ ,” he says, offended by the very suggestion, but still, “but why didn’t she love me? What’s the matter with me?”

 

Because that’s the million dollar question, really. Why is Jamie so fundamentally unlovable, why is he never good enough? Even women who pick him, who pursue him and seem to really want him, at least at first – like Jolie, and Julia – they don’t ever seem to end up wanting him for long.

 

“Nothing,” Tyler insists, but Jamie cuts him off.

 

“I’m difficult.”

 

“You’re challenging,” Tyler offers.

 

“I’m too structured; I’m completely closed off.”

 

“But in a good way,” Tyler says sincerely, and Jamie feels the tears in his eyes again.

 

“No,” he shakes his head, “I drove her away. I drive them all away. And I’m gonna be forty.”

 

Tyler looks confused.

 

“When?”

 

“Someday,” Jamie shrugs.

 

“In like _ten years_ ,” Tyler points out.

 

“But it’s _there_.” Jamie is sure he sounds stupid and hopeless. But he _feels_ stupid and hopeless, so it works. “It’s just sitting there, like this big dead end.”

 

“What are you, worried about your biological clock?” Tyler teases. “You can get married and have babies when you’re eighty if you want to. Of course, you’ll be too old to pick them up.”

 

Jamie laughs a little, but it turns into a pathetic, sniffling sigh.

 

“Aw,” Tyler says, and his eyes are soft, “Come here, come here, bring it in.”

 

He tucks Jamie’s face up against his shoulder and squeezes him tight.

 

“It’s gonna be fine,” he says, and his hand pets the back of Jamie’s head, then settles firm on the back of his neck. “You’ll see.”

 

Jamie just breathes against Tyler’s sweater, trying not to get his tears or his snot all over it but failing miserably. It doesn’t matter, he knows, because Tyler doesn’t give a shit, he won’t mind if Jamie gets his disgusting emotions all over him.

 

Jamie feels stupid for it, but the truth is he feels safe – safer than he’s felt in. Well, a long time. He’s not so completely oblivious that he doesn’t realize, that’s about Tyler.

 

The truth is, a lot of the best parts of Jamie’s life are about Tyler, or because of Tyler. Like, most of them really.

 

He breathes deep again, because Tyler always smells so good, even when he hasn’t showered all day, like now.

 

Maybe _especially_ when he hasn’t showered all day, when his cologne is worn off and he just smells like his own skin, and sweat, and. Like Tyler.

 

His nose is basically in Tyler’s arm pit, which should be gross, but instead it’s comforting, relaxing somehow - even when Jamie’s brain tries to remind him of some thing he read once about pheromones and how you can tell if you’re sexually compatible with someone by how good they smell to you, just naturally.

 

Tyler kisses his head, and pulls back a little.

 

“You want me to get you another beer?”

 

“No,” Jamie shakes his head. “No, could you just. Could you just stay here, just right here, just a little longer?”

 

Which is a weird thing to say, to another guy. Like, very weird, but it’s how he feels. Jamie doesn’t really care anymore about why he feels that way, he just does.

 

Tyler looks at him carefully. Jamie can see his throat working when he swallows, and his voice sounds rough when he says, _sure, of course._

 

He gathers Jamie back in close, and Jamie’s face is pressed into his neck this time, against the prickly whiskers of his two-day beard, and Jamie feels a burst of heat in his belly and down through his groin, like.

 

Well.

 

Like his dick’s getting hard. Which is, yeah – definitely what’s happening.

 

He should probably freak out, or pull away. Anything, really, except what he does.

 

Which is to start nosing his way along Tyler’s jawline, toward his mouth.

 

He hears Tyler’s sharp intake of breath, audible in the silence, and prays Tyler’s not going to stop, or want to talk about this. He silently wills Tyler to just be quiet and let him have this – whatever this is – let him just keep doing what feels good, and not make him stop to think about the why or where or how of it.

 

Luckily, Tyler is excellent at knowing what Jamie’s thinking. He hooks his fingers under Jamie’s chin, and tips his face up just enough, and then they’re kissing.

 

Tyler’s mouth is soft and hot and just the right amount of wet, and he tastes so fucking good. Jamie pulls Tyler’s body closer, up flush against him, and he feels Tyler’s hand press against the front of his sweats.

 

When he gets a hand on Jamie’s dick, when he feels how hard it is, blood-hot and wet at the tip, Tyler whimpers into his mouth. It’s this needy, _animal_ thing, and Jamie feels like a dam has burst somewhere inside him, feels a sudden wave of hot, rushing lust pound through him, like nothing he’s ever felt.

 

Jamie’s told himself a lot of stories over the years, about how different people have different sexual appetites, and his just happen to be pretty tame. About how not _every guy_ has to have a crazy high sex drive, and that there’s nothing wrong with being someone who can go a long time without it, who doesn’t really mind not getting laid.

 

About how it doesn’t mean anything in particular, just because it takes a herculean effort, sometimes, to get hard and stay hard during sex. About how it doesn’t mean anything that he doesn’t always come. Or even _usually_ come, from just fucking, even though he gets off like clockwork when he’s alone.

 

And maybe all of those stories were bullshit, or maybe they were true at the time, or maybe they still are true.

 

Maybe he really has been fucking the wrong people his whole life, maybe even fucking the wrong gender, full stop – but that’s not what this feels like. It feels like it’s just _Tyler_ : that _Tyler_ is the one he should have been fucking all along, that _he’s_ the one that makes Jamie’s blood feel like it’s on fire and that tastes and smells so good Jamie wants to drown in it, the one that makes Jamie’s dick harder than it’s ever been in his life, he’s pretty sure.

 

And whether or not there’s a dick attached, when it comes to Tyler, is really pretty immaterial at this point. Because whatever Tyler’s got, Jamie wants more of it. That’s all that matters right now.

 

Tyler touches him just right, and kisses him just right, and pants and moans and grunts against him, all of it just right, and Jamie clutches at him and curses at him and they both hold on tight on the way down.

 

They stumble from the couch to the bed eventually, and do it all again.

 

Jamie drifts off with Tyler’s head tucked under his chin, and he sleeps like the dead.

 

+++

 

Tyler feels hungover, even though he only had one beer. It’s like the room is spinning, which doesn’t even make sense.

 

He knows it’s not going to make things any better if he runs away, but he so – fuck. Embarrassed isn’t even the right word.

 

Ashamed, is more like it.

 

Jamie needed a friend last night. Tyler of all people knows what that’s like – knows how hard it is for Jamie to ask for it, too. Jamie let himself be vulnerable with Tyler, and this is what he got: taken advantage of by a guy who’s supposed to be his friend.

 

Tyler feels sick to his stomach.

 

He slides out of bed, and into his clothes, which are all over the room.

 

Holy shit, what the fuck was he thinking?

 

As he slides his shirt over his head, he hears the blankets rustling behind him. His heart sinks.

 

“Where are you going?” Jamie’s voice sounds small. Tyler hates himself a little more.

 

“I’ve gotta go,” he says, nonchalant, like everything’s fine. “Gotta go home, gotta change my clothes, and then I have to go to work, and so do you. But after work, I’d like to take you out to dinner, if you’re free. Are you free?”

 

Jesus, he sounds like a used car salesman or something. It’s so awkward it hurts.

 

Jamie just nods, eyes wide and looking like he feels - violated.

 

No surprise there.

 

“I’ll call you,” Tyler says, and Jamie says, “fine.”

 

“Fine,” Tyler agrees, then some foolish, autopilot-driven impulse comes over him and he leans down and kisses Jamie’s temple. He can feel Jamie flinch as he does it, and goddamn it – he’s making it worse.

 

He hustles out the door like his ass is on fire.

 

As soon as he’s in the car, he calls Jess.

 

“No one who cares about me at all would call at this hour,” she says when she picks up.

 

“Sorry,” Tyler says. “I just. I need to talk.”

 

“What’s the matter?”

 

“I went over the Jamie’s last night,” he starts, already dreading having to finish this sentence. “He was feeling really down, and I went over to cheer him up, but then one thing lead to another, or. I guess to make a long story short, uh. We hooked up.”

 

There’s a pause, and Tyler braces for the worst, but then Jess says,

 

“It’s about time! I knew he couldn’t be totally straight, he’s so obviously into you. I knew!”

 

And she sounds excited, like it’s a good thing, and that’s – not right at all.

 

“For months Tyson and I have been saying you guys should get together,” she goes on. ”You’re perfect together, straight-schmaight! It’s like killing two birds with one stone.”

 

She barely stops to breathe before she asks,

 

“How was it?”

 

“Last night, it seemed,” Tyler stops, remembering exactly how it had seemed – like it was inevitable, so obvious, like it was exactly where they’d been headed all along, and like it was right where they should be. Like it was what they both wanted. But.

 

“Good,” he finishes, in the understatement of the year. “But this morning.”

 

He closes his eyes.

 

“I felt, I don’t know. Guilty, or something. Like I took advantage. Like that’s not what he really wanted, he was just upset and confused or whatever. I’m pretty sure he hates me now.”

 

“I’m sure that’s not true, Tyler.” Jess says, with a softness in her voice that he rarely hears. “Jamie’s a grown man, he wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t want to. And he loves you. You guys love _each other_.”

 

“I don’t know,” Tyler feels like he’s going to cry. “I just felt so horrible. And he looked at me like he was. So fucking _disappointed_. I just had to get out of there.”

 

“Aw, babe,” now Jess sounds like she’s going to cry. “That’s the worst. I’m so sorry. But look, it would've been great if it worked out, but I guess it didn't. At least you tried, right? I’m sure it will all blow over and end up okay.”

 

Tyler hears a voice in the background.

 

“Who’s that talking?”

 

No way Tyson gets up this early, of that much Tyler is sure.

 

“What? Oh, uh - it’s George Stephanopoulos on _Good Morning America_ ,” Jess says. “Do you want to come over for breakfast?”

 

“Ugh,” Tyler grunts, “I don’t feel up to it.”

 

“Good!” Jess says brightly, like she’s relieved, and Tyler tries not to be insulted. “But – just, call me later. If you want to talk, or, just. Anything. Okay?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Tyler says. “Thanks, Jess.”

 

He goes home and stands under a scalding hot shower, but even the burn of the water can’t take away the disgusting, disgusted feeling of shame that’s crawled its way under his skin.

 

+++

 

When Jamie’s eyes blink open to see Tyler standing across the room in the soft light of the very early morning, the first thing he feels is fondness, just at the sight of Tyler. Which is, yeah – pretty pathetic, in retrospect.

 

The next thing he feels is that wash of heat again, because Tyler’s back is like a work of art, muscles working under smooth skin, ink stark and beautiful against all that pale canvas as he pulls his shirt over his head.

 

The final thing he feels is an icy cold wash in right behind that wave of heat, when he realizes – Tyler’s getting dressed to leave. He suddenly can’t catch his breath.

 

Because he knows how Tyler is with the guys he hooks up with, the way he gets off and gets out, the way he’s been insisting for years that it doesn’t have to mean anything, that it’s just sex and Jamie shouldn’t take it so seriously.

 

But still, Jamie never, ever thought, not even for one second, that Tyler would feel that way about _him_.

 

God, he’s such an idiot.

 

He kind of wants to just close his eyes, pretend to be asleep and let Tyler slip out. Out of his bedroom, out of his house, out of his life, probably. Just let him _go_ , if he wants to go so bad.

 

But, no. Tyler is his friend, and Jamie’s the one who started this. He’s the one who should have known better than to think -.

 

He can do this, he can act like everything’s fine and it’s just another day.

 

“Where are you going?” he asks, then cringes inwardly at how needy it sounds. God, he’s terrible at this.

 

Tyler is obviously startled, and Jamie makes everything awkward, and it’s clear Tyler can’t get out of there fast enough. Not that Jamie can blame him.

 

He agrees to have dinner later, even though he’d really rather not, but Tyler is like, his best friend. He can’t just avoid him. Then Tyler kisses him on the head it feels like pity, like some kind of consolation prize, and Jamie tries not to shy away from it but he wishes Tyler just – _wouldn’t_. Not if things are just going to go back to normal now, anyway.

 

As soon as he hears the front door slam, he calls Tyson.

 

“Are you alright,” Tyson asks, which is fair, because Jamie would normally never call this early.

 

“I did something terrible,” he says, which is maybe not exactly true, but that’s how it feels.

 

“What did you do?”

 

“Ugh.” Jamie closes his eyes. “It’s so awful.” His chest feels too tight to breathe.

 

“Dude, what happened? Do I need to help you hide a body?”

 

Jamie almost wishes it was that simple.

 

“Tyler came over last night. Because I was upset, because I found out Jolie’s getting married.”

 

“Oh, shit,” Tyson says, and Jamie knows he’s about to ask a follow up on the Jolie situation, thinking that’s what this is about.

 

“No -,” Jamie cuts him off, “It’s just, he came over, and I was upset, and. Before I knew it were were. Kissing, I guess? And. Yeah. We hooked up.”

 

There’s a pause, and a rustling of the phone before Tyson responds.

 

“Dude, that’s great! We’ve been over here wondering why you didn’t ever do it before. I told you a long time ago, everyone should have a same sex experience – how else do you know for sure you don’t like it?”

 

Jamie pulls the comforter over his head; he’s heard this speech from Tyson before, but he’d never really given it any serious consideration. Maybe he should listen more, in the future, instead of always assuming Tyson is an idiot who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I mean, one of them is happily living in a well-adjusted adult relationship, and one of them is hiding under the covers because they just slept with their best friend and maybe ruined their whole life.

 

“You guys belong together,” Tyson says, and Jamie’s heart lurches painfully. “Who cares about labels, you’re straight, he’s gay, all that bullshit? None of it matters, man. When it’s right, it’s right.”

 

When Jamie doesn’t respond, he says tentatively,

 

“How was it?”

 

“The during part was good, I think. Or I mean, I _thought_.” Jamie swallows down the lump in his throat. “I really thought it was – yeah. It felt really. Good.”

 

 _Good_ pales in comparison to how it really felt in the moment, but it also seems like a severe overstatement, given the way things transpired this morning.

 

“It seemed. Natural, like, not even weird. But then, I guess it was? Weird, I mean. Somehow it just turned _so_ fucking weird, I don’t even know how.”

 

“Jesus, really?” Tyson sounds like he can’t believe it. “That sucks, man. But I’m sure it will be fine. Some first time awkwardness is normal, right? You just have to get past that, and you’re good. You guys will figure it out, I’m sure of it.”

 

“Yeah,” Jamie says weakly, “I don’t think. I mean, he kinda just. Disappeared? It doesn’t seem like he wants to get past it, it seems like he wants to just. Pretend it never happened, so.”

 

He rubs the heels of his palms into his eye sockets.

 

“Jesus, I’m so embarrassed.”

 

“Okay, it sounds horrible,” Tyson concedes, “but you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. The moral of the story is, you should never sleep with anyone when you just found out your ex is getting married, right? But you and Tyler are solid, man. I’m sure it will work out, you just have to give it some time.”

 

Jamie hears mumbling in the background, and feels a pit in his stomach.

 

“Is that Jess on the phone?”

 

“It’s just the TV,” Tyson says, “that Hoda whoever lady’s talking.”

 

Jamie’s not sure he believes it.

 

“Do you want to come over for breakfast?”

 

“No, I feel too awful. I want to die right here in my bed.”

 

“Great,” Tyson says, “I mean! It’s just so early, and everything.”

 

“Whatever,” Jamie says.

 

“I’ll call you later, okay?” Tyson says, and Jamie ends the call.

 

Of course Tyler called Jess as soon as he left here, and of course they’re talking about Jamie right now. Probably, Tyler is telling her how _into it_ Jamie was last night, how thirsty he was for it and how bad Tyler feels for him, because Tyler thought Jamie would understand it was just a sex thing, no big deal, but now Jamie’s gone and gotten his feelings hurt like some teenager who just lost his virginity.

 

He burns with the humiliation of it.

 

He wishes he was a religious person, so he could just join the priesthood and be done with all this stuff for good.

 

+++

 

Since the dinner they had _the day after_ , Tyler hasn’t seen or talked to Jamie. It’s not a surprise, really.

 

Even though Jamie was polite to him at dinner, even though they both agreed it was a mistake and Jamie didn’t say he blamed him, didn’t accuse him of taking advantage or anything, it was obvious already that Jamie would rather be literally anywhere than with Tyler.

 

Tyler couldn’t blame him.

 

Jess keeps telling him that Tyson says _Jamie_ is the one who feels bad, that he thinks the whole thing is his fault, the same way Tyler thinks the whole thing is _his_ fault.

 

At this point, Tyler really doesn’t know what to believe, all he knows is Jamie keeps avoiding him, and he stopped coming to hockey, he stopped coming to the gym, he stopped seeing him with Daisy at the dog park.

 

Tyler has called and texted and called again, he’s apologized via every platform available, but Jamie hasn’t responded. Jamie’s just disappeared, and Tyler’s not sure what he’s supposed to make of that other than Jamie definitely doesn’t want to still be his friend.

 

No matter what Jess and Tyson say.

 

“I think,” he tells Jess, while they’re alternately jogging and speed walking Katy Trail, “it’s just like, most of the time you hook up with someone, and he tells you his stories, and you tell him your stories. But with Jamie, we’ve already heard each other’s stories. So once we had sex, we didn’t know what we were supposed to do, you know?”

 

“Sure, Tyler,” Jess says, making it very clear what she thinks of his theory.

 

“I don’t know,” he tells her a few weeks later, when they’re in the Fletcher’s line at the State Fair, waiting for their corny dogs, “Maybe you get to a certain point in a relationship where it’s just too late to have sex, you know? And then there’s just no coming back from it.”

 

“Uh, huh,” she says, clearly still unconvinced.

 

Tyler’s not sure he’s convinced, either, but he’s grasping at straws, here, and he just really, really misses Jamie.

 

+++

 

Jamie still finds it kind of hard to believe that Tyson is getting married.

 

 _Tyson_. Is getting _married_.

 

It’s a hard pill to swallow.

 

After all, for so long Jamie was the one with the long term, live-in girlfriend and the house and the dog and the life that was going somewhere. And Tyson was the one chasing after some impossible relationship, feeding off the will-he-won’t-he drama of it all, wasting his life and not having his shit together.

 

But now, it feels uncomfortably obvious that the tables have turned, that Jamie is now the sad friend whose life is going nowhere, while Tyson has a fiancée and a townhouse and a wedding in just a few weeks.

 

Jamie is happy for Tyson and Jess, he truly, truly is. But he’s envious, also – of what they have together, and also of the fact that they still have Tyler in their lives.

 

Unlike Jamie, who only knows anything at all about Tyler’s life now if he hears it from Tyson, which is. Just, so unfair.

 

“Is Tyler bringing anyone to the wedding?”

 

Jamie has stopped trying to sound cool or nonchalant about fishing for info on Tyler. He might have cut himself out of Tyler’s life – it was his only choice, both due to the sheer weight of his own humiliation, as well as the sudden and uncomfortable realization that Tyler is not someone with whom Jamie can be _just friends_ – not anymore. But that doesn’t mean he’s any less curious about what Tyler’s up to, how his life is going, who he’s spending his time with.

 

Tyson indulges his nosiness, because he’s a good friend.

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

“Is he dating anyone?”

 

“He was dating this Anthropologist, but,” Tyson just shrugs, which is not much of an explanation.

 

“What did he look like?” Jamie asks, because he has no shame.

 

“Hot. Foreign. Kinda pretentious.” Tyson shrugs again, and fusses with the bowtie of his tux in the mirror. “You know, your basic Tyler-style piece of ass.”

 

Tyler does have a type, when it comes to guys he actually has longer-than-one-night relationships with. Jamie couldn’t be further from that type, which is a fact that he really, really wishes he would have noticed _before_ he hooked up with Tyler like some lovesick loser, and ruined the friendship forever.

 

Tyson turns to Jamie, his arms out for inspection.

 

“So, what do you think? Tell the truth.”

 

“Looks great, man.” Jamie claps him on the shoulder. “I envy you.”

 

Of course Jamie is the Best Man, and Tyler is the Bride’s Man, and of course they’re going to see each other at the wedding. It will be the first time since they had that awkward, horrible dinner the night after they hooked up, where Jamie said he thought it had been a mistake, because he knew that’s what Tyler would want to hear.

 

Even as he said it a small, pathetic part of him was still hoping Tyler would disagree, would say it didn’t feel like a mistake to him.

 

Of course, Tyler didn’t, and his discomfort just being in Jamie’s presence was palpable.

 

Tyler said all the right things, the polite things about still being friends, but it was difficult to take him seriously when he sat there sweating, looking like he was in physical pain.

 

If it was anyone but Tyson, Jamie would seriously consider faking appendicitis, heart attack, _something_ to get out of this wedding.

 

But it _is_ Tyson. And also, Jamie is an adult, and he can’t keep hiding from Tyler like a scared child. It’s too late to preserve his dignity, but at least he can start showing some courage.

 

In the end, it’s a beautiful wedding. Jess and Tyson look deliriously happy; Jamie keeps his eyes on their shining, tear-stained faces and away from Tyler’s as much as he can.

 

“I’ve never seen him so happy,” he tells Alex after the ceremony, “he’s like a totally different person.”

 

“Yeah, he really is,” Alex agrees. “It’s great, so. Now what are we doing to do about you?”

 

Luckily Alex’s wife appears just in time to save Jamie from having to come up with an answer to that.

 

“Honey,” she takes his arm and smiles up at him, “how ‘bout a dance?”

 

“For sure,” he says, and just grins at Jamie as he pulls her out onto the dance floor.

 

Jamie’s too busy watching them to notice when Tyler steps up next to him, until he’s already said _hey._

“Oh, uh. Hey.”

 

“Nice ceremony,” Tyler says, and Jamie nods his agreement.

 

“Really nice.”

 

There’s a long pause, and Jamie’s just about to excuse himself to the Men’s room when Tyler says,

 

“Man, the holidays are rough, eh? Every year it’s like, just tryin’ to get from the day before American Thanksgiving to the day after New Year’s.”

 

Jamie knows what Tyler’s doing, trying to disarm him with one of his patented flights of rambling chatter, trying to get Jamie to join in on the joke. Jamie kind of wants to, but he reminds himself, he can’t.

 

He can’t be Tyler’s friend anymore, because he wants to be more than that, and Tyler doesn’t, and there’s just no resolving that.

 

Still, he says,

 

“Lot of suicides,” deadpan, because he thinks Tyler will like it.

 

Tyler does. He grins.

 

A waiter comes by with shrimp; Jamie takes one, Tyler doesn’t. It’s quiet again, but maybe just a smidge less fraught with tension.

 

“How have you been,” Tyler asks, tentative. Jamie swallows his shrimp before he answers.

 

“Fine,” he says, trying to keep his tone light, polite, but before he can ask the same of Tyler, Tyler says,

 

“Are you dating anybody?” And Jamie freezes.

 

He takes a deep breath and blinks out at the couples dancing.

 

“ _Tyler_ ,” he says, and he hopes it sounds exasperated instead of sad.

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“Why not?” Tyler says, like he doesn’t already know, and Jamie feels irritation rise up inside him.

 

“You know why,” he grits out, willing himself not to blush.

 

“Why can’t we get past this,” Tyler whispers, and he sounds so sincere, it makes Jamie’s chest ache. But then he adds, “I mean, are we just going to carry this thing around forever?”

 

And Jamie’s irritation turns into full blown anger.

 

“ _Forever_?” He snaps, turning on Tyler. “It _just_ happened.”

 

“It happened three months ago,” Tyler counters, and Jamie grits his teeth.

 

“You know how a year to a person is like seven years to a dog?” Tyler goes on, and Jamie narrows his eyes.

 

“ _Yes_.”

 

“Well,” Tyler shrugs with his eyes wide, and he looks so fucking smug Jamie could punch him.

 

“Is one of us supposed to be a _dog_ in this scenario?” Jamie hisses.

 

“Yes,” Tyler says blandly.

 

“Who is the dog?” Jamie asks, as calmly as he can.

 

“You are,” Tyler says.

 

“I am,” Jamie confirms, “I am the dog. _I_ am the dog.” His tone is more incredulous each time he repeats it, his voice going higher than he would probably prefer.

 

Tyler just nods his agreement.

 

Jamie grabs Tyler by the arm and drags him out of the ballroom, through the nearest door, which happens to be the caterer’s kitchen, he finds out too late.

 

Nothing to do about it now.

 

“I don’t see that, Tyler. If anybody is the dog, _you_ are the dog. You come over when I’m at my worst, and my weakest, and, and you -. You act all concerned, like you actually care, like maybe you wanted - .” He stops and shakes his head. “You just took what you wanted and ran.”

 

Tyler flinches, visibly.

 

“I’ve apologized over and over, Jamie, please. I know I didn’t handle myself well, but I don’t know what else to say. We both agreed it was a mistake.”

 

“The worst mistake _I’ve_ ever made,” Jamie spits at him.

 

Tyler flinches again.

 

“What do you want from me?”

 

“I don’t want anything from you! I think I’ve made that pretty clear over the last three months.”

 

Tyler’s eyes flash, and the look on his face goes from soft and pleading to hard and mean in the blink of an eye. Jamie tries to brace for whatever’s coming.

 

“Fine,” Tyler hisses. “You don’t want to be my friend anymore, fine. But let’s just get one thing straight. I did not go over there that night thinking oh, great, _finally_ Jamie will be weak and vulnerable and I can go in for the kill. You really think I’ve just been biding my time for our whole friendship, just hoping for an opportunity to catch you off guard and get in your pants? Give me a fucking break! You can’t put this all on me and pretend you didn’t have anything to do with it, Jamie. Not when you’re looking up at me with these big weepy eyes, all - _don't leave, Tyler, stay here with me, Tyler_. What was I _supposed_ to think?”

 

“What are you saying, that you took _pity_ on me?”

 

Jamie really hopes his voice isn’t shaking. All these months, that’s been the one thing he’s been most afraid of – not that Tyler only wanted a casual hookup, but that he didn’t actually want to hook up with Jamie _at all_. That he only did it because Jamie had been practically begging for it, and Tyler felt too bad for him to turn him down.

 

“No!” Tyler yells, “I was - .”

 

“Fuck you!” Jamie yells back, and shoves him, hard. Tyler stumbles backward just enough for Jamie to storm past him out the door.

 

+++

 

Tyler stands in the kitchen as long as he can, stunned. The wait staff swarms around him and sometimes into him, and he starts to get a lot of dirty looks. He straightens his jacket and his bow tie, smooths everything down and takes a few deep breaths, and gets back out there.

 

 

He reaches the edge of the dance floor just in time to see Jess on stage in front of the band, holding the mic.

 

“Everybody,” she taps on the mic, “could I have your attention please?”

 

Everyone stops and turns, because when the bride speaks, people listen. Tyler sees Jamie standing just a few feet away with Alex, and his face is red. He looks pretty rattled.

 

Even after everything, Tyler still hates to see him upset.

 

Jess thanks everyone for coming, for sharing in their special day. She gives a shout out to her parents and Tyson’s parents, and then she raises her glass.

 

“I’d like to propose a toast to Tyler and Jamie,” she says, and pauses while people pick up their glasses. Tyler steals a look at Jamie, but Jamie doesn’t look back.

 

“To Tyler and Jamie,” Jess goes on with a grin. “If Tyson or I had found either of them even remotely attractive, we would not be here today.”

 

The crowd hoots and laughs and claps, and Tyler slaps a smile onto his face because that’s what’s expected. He watches Jamie clap Alex on the shoulder and duck off into the crowd, and he’s tall enough that Tyler can follow his head for a while, but he loses sight of him eventually.

 

For the next few weeks, Tyler tries, he really does. He tries to just leave Jamie alone, and to keep him out of sight, out of mind.

 

Trying turns out to be completely ineffective, however. He finds himself leaving ridiculous voicemails for Jamie, the kind of stuff that used to pry a smile out of him, like:

 

“Hi, it's me. It's is the holiday season and I thought I'd just remind you that this is the season for charity and forgiveness. And although it's not widely known, it is also the season of groveling. So if you felt like calling me back, I'd be more than happy to do the traditional Christmas grovel. Give me a call.”

 

That gets him nothing – no text, no call back, not even a peep.

 

When he asks Tyson and Jess about him, they say he’s doing fine, and that’s all they say, like they’ve been issued a gag order or something. Clearly, they’re not going to be any help.

 

His sadface snaps and texted photos of how much Cash and Marshall miss Daisy aren’t working, so Tyler tries the voicemail gambit again:

 

“I’m sorry if it seems like I’m stalking you, but I really want to talk to you. The fact that you're not answering my calls leads me to believe that you're either: a) Not available, b) Available, but don't want to talk to me, or c) Available and desperately want to talk to me, but trapped under something heavy. If it's either a) or c) call me back.”

 

Tyler can imagine Jamie listening to that one and rolling his eyes, but maybe smiling a little. He hopes, at least – but still he hears nothing.

 

And okay, fine. That’s fine. So maybe their friendship meant more to Tyler than it did to Jamie, if Jamie can walk away from it so easily. Or maybe Jamie thinks Tyler is such a scumbag that he just can’t forgive him, no matter how much Tyler begs and/or humiliates himself via voicemail.

 

So, okay. That’s that.

 

“Obviously he doesn’t want to talk to me,” Tyler tells Jess, watching her face for any signs that she knows something he doesn’t. “What do I have to do, be beat over the head? If he wants to call me, he’ll call me. I’m through making an ass out of myself.”

 

Jess just nods noncommittally, unhelpful as always.

 

His resolve holds for a few days, but then he comes home drunk from his company Christmas party and accidentally buys that karaoke system, the same kind that he and Jamie used to sing _Surry with the Fringe on Top_ , off Amazon. He kind of forgets about it, but when it arrives at his door a few days before Christmas, he starts messing around with it. It’s not long until he’s making an ass of himself again, recording a snap video of himself singing.

 

 **“** If you're feeling sad and lonely,” Tyler croons into the microphone, “there's a service I can render / Tell the one who digs you only / I can be so warm and tender / Call me / Don’t be afraid to just / Call me / Maybe it’s late but just / Call me / Tell me, and I’ll be around. Call me!”

 

He sees that it’s been opened, just like every snap before, and just like his texts. The difference is, this time his phone rings.

 

“Hey, Tyler,” Jamie says. His voice sounds tired.

 

“Hi!” Tyler can’t help smiling, he’s just so relieved Jamie called. He bumbles through an overly-excited greeting.

 

“Hi, hey, I -. I mean, sorry, I didn’t. I mean, I didn’t know if you’d. Well. What are you doing?”

 

“I was actually on my way out,” Jamie says in that same tired voice.

 

“Oh, cool,” Tyler says, “Where are you going?”

 

Jamie sighs.

 

“What do you want, Tyler?”

 

Tyler feels suddenly so stupid, so helpless. He feels like if he speaks, his voice is going to be all wobbly. He swallows hard.

 

“Nothing,” Tyler says, and shakes his head at himself. He’s got to have something better that that. “Nothing, except. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

 

Jamie’s quiet, then he just says, “okay.”

 

There’s a long, awkward silence, during which Tyler is sure Jamie can probably hear his heart pounding.

 

“I gotta go,” Jamie says, finally, and Tyler grits his teeth and punches his pillow as hard as he can.

 

“Wait a second,” he blurts, “wait a second, please, just. Um. What are you doing for New Year’s? Do you have plans already? ‘Cause I don’t have a date or anything, and if you don’t have a date, we said that if neither one of us had a date, we could be each other’s dates on New Year’s. And we could maybe, you know - .”

 

He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence, so he just trails off.

 

“I can’t do this anymore,” Jamie says. His voice is assertive, but Tyler can hear it wavering, like maybe Jamie is fighting back tears or something.

 

“I am not your consolation prize,” he says firmly, and then the call ends.

 

Tyler sits on his bed and stares at the call log for a while, and wonders if that’s the last call he’ll ever get from Jamie.

 

+++

 

After everything that’s been going on with Tyler, the last thing Jamie wanted to do was be out at some party with a big crowd and a bunch of people, being a terrible date to the poor friend of Jess who was unlucky enough to be set up with him for tonight.

 

He dances with her, because there’s no point in ruining her New Year’s Eve just because his was ruined a week and half ago, when he turned down Tyler’s offer of a pity date.

 

He spins her out away from him then pulls her back in, trying hard not to think about last year when he did the same thing, only instead of this poor woman’s bored face there was Tyler, laughing and giggling and, Jamie can admit to himself, beautiful, strong-arming Jamie into dipping him.

 

The band wraps up _Don’t Get Around Much Anymore_ and his date excuses herself to the bathroom. Jamie winds his way back through the crowd to Tyson and Jess.

 

“I don’t know why I let you drag me into this,” he whines. He just feels exhausted, not to mention sad, and lonely, and he just doesn’t want to do this, not for one minute more. He knows it’s unforgivably rude to leave them to make his excuses to his date, but,

 

“I’m going home,” he says, suddenly resolved.

 

“You’ll be waiting for your car for an hour at the valet,” Tyson says, “just stay.”

 

“I don’t care, I’m going,” Jamie insists.

 

“It’s almost midnight,” Jess says, “Come on, stay, please.”

 

“Thanks, Jess,” he shakes his head, “I just. I have to go.”

 

“Wait five minutes,” Tyson says, but Jamie’s already leaning in, kissing Jess on the cheek.

 

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says to Tyson, and heads for the doors.

 

+++

 

Tyler’s on his couch, watching the New Year’s coverage on CNN with Andy and Anderson. Don Lemon is drunk in New Orleans. Tyler’s not sure when CNN got so gay, but he’s on board.

 

So what if he’s alone? New Year’s Eve is just another night, and tomorrow is just another day.

 

Tyler got a little Nerf mini-hockey game from Jess for Christmas; the net has taken up permanent residence in the corner of his living room.

 

“Okay,” he says out loud to himself, “What’s so bad about this? You’ve got Andy and Anderson, you’ve got Don Lemon, you’ve got plenty of beer, and you’re about to give the Leafs their first Stanley Cup since 1967.”

 

He shoots the little nerf ball with his little tiny plastic stick, but it slices right and bounces off the pvc pipes.

 

He lies there on the sofa for awhile, staring at the ceiling, finishing his beer, and then.

 

He just has to get out.

 

He slides his feet into his sneakers and pulls on a hoodie, and takes off down the street.

 

Helmut insisted they live in the gayborhood, not that Tyler objected, but it just means that the streets are full of boys headed out to the bars and clubs. They look so young, or maybe it’s just that Tyler feels so old.

 

He knows Tyson and Jess took Jamie with them to some party downtown. It’s at the Fairmont, Jess told him.

 

There’s laughter up ahead of him, and it’s two guys on the corner, waiting for the light to change. Their arms are around each other, and they rub their noses together and smile into each others’ mouths, kissing and laughing.

 

Tyler feels a violent pain in his chest, something more than just a vague longing for something _like_ that. This is a specific longing to have _that_ , that exact thing, but with a specific person, and person who maybe hates him, but.

 

But Tyler just can’t believe that, he can’t. He remembers Jess saying, _he loves you_ , and _you guys love each other_.

Tyler suddenly can’t understand why the hell it took him four months to see the truth in those words.

 

His heart starts to pound.

 

It’s 11:30. He needs a cab.

 

Of course, it’s New Year’s Eve, so every cab is full. He pulls up Uber and the wait times are all insane. He runs, actually runs, down to Cedar Springs to the main strip, thinking there’s got to be a car around somewhere.

 

He spots a Lyft sign in the front window of a parked car and runs over, knocks on the passenger window. The driver says he’s waiting for someone who’s paying him to wait there until midnight. Tyler’s got 80 bucks in his wallet and he’s only going a mile and a half away. He convinces the driver he’ll be back by midnight, and the guy agrees to an off-the-books ride.

 

Tyler barely waits for the car to roll to a stop before he’s throwing the cash at the guy and jumping out of the car under the covered driveway at the Fairmont’s valet stand.

 

The escalator up to the ballroom is packed with people just standing and riding without a care in the world, and Tyler doesn’t have that kind of time. He takes the stairs two at a time, and he’s breathing hard, hunched over with his hands on his knees when he sees Jamie emerge from the crowd, looking deadly in a black suit.

 

Jesus, he’s so beautiful, and he looks so sad, and Tyler is so stupid.

 

Jamie spots him just as he’s about to call his name. He comes to stand in front of Tyler with a wary look on his face.

 

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” Tyler says, because he might as well get down to it. “And the thing is, I love you.”

 

Jamie scowls at him.

 

“ _What_?”

 

“I love you.”

 

Jamie looks startled, at best. It takes him a minute to say anything, which is fine, because Tyler’s still trying to catch his breath.

 

“How do you expect me to respond to this?” is what he says.

 

“How about you love me too?” Tyler shrugs. He doesn’t bother trying to be cute about it. That’s the answer he’s hoping for, and he’s done pretending any different.

 

All his eggs are in this basket; he’s all in.

 

“How about I’m leaving,” Jamie says, and starts toward the escalator.

 

“What?” Tyler steps in front of him again, incredulous. “Doesn’t what I said mean anything to you?”

 

Jamie just closes his eyes, and shakes his head.

 

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I know it's New Year’s Eve, I know you're feeling lonely, but you just can't show up here, tell me you _love me_ and expect that to make everything alright. It doesn't work this way.”

 

“Well how does it work?” Tyler thinks his voice might sound desperate, but he doesn’t care.

 

“I don’t know,” Jamie yells, exasperated, and flaps his arms “but not this way!”

 

He turns away again, but Tyler grabs his arm.

 

“Well how about this way,” he says, and he takes a step closer, right up into Jamie’s space. “ I love that you get hot when it's seventy one degrees out, I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich, I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts, I love that after I spend a day with you I can still smell your cologne on my clothes, and I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year’s Eve. I’m sorry that it took me so long, okay? I’m sorry. But I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of the life to start as soon as possible.”

 

Jamie just stares at him, and for minute Tyler thinks Jamie might punch him or something. But then he looks up at the ceiling and groans, and flaps his arms again.

 

“You see, that is _just_ like you, Tyler.” He shakes his head in frustration. “You say things like that and you make it impossible for me to hate you. And I hate you Tyler.” His face kind of crumples, and his shoulders sag.

 

“I really hate you. I hate you.”

 

Tyler just nods sympathetically, and slides his hand along Jamie’s jaw. Jamie’s arm goes around his waist and pulls him in close, and then they’re kissing.

 

Inside the ballroom, the midnight countdown has ended, and the band has struck up _Auld Lang Syne_.

 

When they come up for air, Tyler wonders aloud,

 

“What does this song mean? My whole life, I’ve never understood what this song means. I mean, _Should old acquaintance be forgot_?. Does that mean we should forget old acquaintances or does it mean if we happen to forget them we should remember them, which is not possible because we already forgot them?”

 

Jamie snorts and shakes his head.

 

“Well, maybe it just means that we should remember that we forgot them or something? Anyway, it's about old friends.”

 

And then he kisses Tyler again.

**EPILOGUE**

“Just have a seat here,” the lady says, “and we’ll be right with you.”

 

Tyler and Jamie sit down on the sofa and wait.

 

Tyler can’t believe Jamie agreed to anything like this, but it’s some old professor of his at SMU who’s running the research project, and when he reached about needing a 30-something same sex couple, Jamie felt like he couldn’t turn him down.

 

Tyler of course is happy to participate. There’s hardly anything he loves talking about more than Jamie.

 

They met some of the other couples in the waiting room, mostly older couples, and all hetero.

 

Tyler’s not entirely sure what the point of the research is, something about courtship and marriage around the world and across gender and generation. All he really knows is they’re going to be asked to talk about their relationship on camera.

 

When the researcher comes into the room, she lets them know that she’s going to start recording, then sits behind the camera at a table with her note pad.

 

“If you guys are ready to get started,” she smiles, “let’s start by just telling me how you met.”

 

Tyler looks at Jamie, who nods at him. As if they didn’t both already know that Tyler’s going to be the one to start.

 

“The first time we met, we hated each other.” Tyler grins at Jamie.

 

“No,” he shakes his head, “you didn’t hate me, I hated you. And the second time we met you didn’t even remember me.”

 

He’s still looking at Tyler, not at the camera.

 

“I did too,” Tyler says, “I remembered you!”

 

He turns to look at the camera.

 

“The third time we met, we became friends.”

 

“We were friends for a long time,” Jamie confirms.

 

“And then we weren’t,” Tyler tries not to let it show on his face, how sad it makes him just to think about the time when they weren’t. He’s not sure he’s successful, because Jamie’s hand lands on his thigh.

 

“And then we fell in love,” Jamie says, and squeezes Tyler’s thigh. “Three months later we got married.”

 

“Yeah,” Tyler shrugs, “it only took three months.”

 

Jamie shrugs.

 

“Nine years and three months.”

 

“We had this – it was a really awesome wedding,” Tyler says, and Jamie nods.

 

“It was, yeah, it really was a great wedding.”

 

“We had this giant coconut cake,” Tyler explains.

 

“Huge coconut cake, with the,” Jamie gestures with his hands, “with the tiers and everything, and this, just, crazy delicious chocolate sauce on the side.”

 

“Right,” Tyler nods, “’cause not everybody likes it on the cake, ‘cause it can make it pretty soggy.”

 

“Especially the coconut,” Jamie cuts in, “soaks up a lot of that stuff, so you really -. It’s important to keep it on the side.”

 

“Right.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case any of this is unclear:
> 
> Sally Albright = Jamie
> 
> Sally’s friends in the movie are Marie (Carrie Fisher character) and Alice. Marie became Tyson Barrie because you know, BFF’s with Jamie. Alice just became an OMC named Alex, because I’m super creative.
> 
> Sally’s long-term boyfriend in the movie was named Joe, who became Jolie here. She also dated a guy named Julian, who became Julia here. Again, because creativity.
> 
> Harry Burns = Tyler
> 
> Harry’s friend in the movie is Jess (the delightful Bruno Kirby). In order for the Jamie/Jess double date to work (because it occurs before Jamie’s big gay epiphany), I needed Jess to be female in this case, so Jess became – you guessed it - Jess.
> 
> Harry’s girlfriend who introduces him to Sally is named Amanda, which became Armando. Harry’s wife was Helen, which became Helmut. Both of those were just the first male names that came to mind, based on the names of the female characters, but then I realized Tyler appeared to have a thing for foreign guys, so Emily become Emile. The fact that Emily was a baker in the movie made Emile the French pastry chef a no-brainer.
> 
> Other random things:
> 
> Title is from _Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off_ , which is featured prominently in the movie soundtrack.
> 
> I chose University of Alberta to replace University of Chicago because they’re both well-regarded schools in the middle-ish of the continent, and not in the hometown of either character.
> 
> They move to Dallas instead of NYC because, obviously.
> 
> Cassie Nova and Krystal Summers are well-known Dallas drag queens, who really do perform at the Rose Room. Look them up!
> 
>  _Surrey with the Fringe on Top_ is from the musical _Oklahoma!_
> 
> When they’re playing the game Pictionary and Jamie is drawing, there are several puns in that scene based on classic songs that have been recorded by lots of different artists, namely: _Wont You Come Home Bill Bailey_ , _Melancholy Baby_ and _Yes Sir That’s My Baby_.
> 
> The song Tyler sings in his Snap to Jamie is _Call Me_ , another old standard that's been recorded by various different people.
> 
> I didn’t include every single scene from the movie, but almost all. The POV starts with Jamie exclusively, but eventually it became obvious I wasn’t going to be able to tell the full story without some segments from Tyler’s POV, because there are several pivotal, developmental scenes in the move that don’t include Sally and so couldn’t be achieved from Jamie’s POV. But, because of the arc of this story being essentially about Jamie’s transition from thinking of himself as straight to thinking of himself as whatever it takes to be with Tyler, he feels a little more like the ‘main character’ here than either Harry or Sally do in the movie.
> 
> Also: there are several scenes in this movie that employ split screens, montages, or cross talk that was basically impossible to recreate exactly. In particular the scene where Harry calls Jess at the same time Sally calls Marie, the morning after they hook up, and at the end where in the movie, the scene with Sally at the NYE party and Harry at his apartment then running across town are playing out simultaneously. You should really watch them to get the full effect. In particular the timing of the four- way phone scene is excellent on film, and funny in a way it really isn’t in this format.


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